Omg this is such a fun idea!! Imagine this gets brought up in the fatui meeting...
"I have been meaning to ask..." Capitano began with careful consideration, "...about the new law."
"Which one are you referring to?" Pulcinella said.
"Perhaps the captain is talking about the one about volunteers," Dottore stated from his place beside Pantalone.
"That one was specifically passed for you-" Sandrone spat out.
"A hindrance to my research actually-" Dottore lamented.
"I was referring to the ban on Ao3," Capitano explained ignoring the doctor. "I was wondering if it was something significant."
"Ah yes, Ao3, the daily magazine for publishing fanfiction," Arlecchino said as if she was expertised on this topic.
"Fanfiction?"
"Think of it as stories written about real people and characters," she explained.
"Not just stories. This is vile, filth; a threat to the fatui," Pulcinella frowned as if the very word was contaminating his ears. "Hold on a moment... where did you hear about it?" he said looking at Arlecchino directly in the eyes.
"Some of the children at the house of the hearth were suspiciously hovering over their papers. I took a peek and ended up discovering it," she simply said.
"And you didn't think to report it?!"
"Creativity is always encouraged," she said.
"Do they publish propaganda against the Tsaritsa for it to be banned?" Capitano asked.
"Not that I know of," Pantalone added. It would've reached his ears sooner.
"They publish things offensive to the honor of the Fatui," Pulcinella said.
"Can't you unban it?" Columbina told the Director. "I was planning on publishing a fanfiction I wrote."
"This is within the mayor's jurisdiction," Pierro said.
"Such blasphemy!" Pulcinella exclaimed. "I hope you're aware that they write about you and Sandrone."
"What?!" Sandrone shot out. "What do they write about?"
"I agree with Columbina," Pantalone said. "It sounds like an wonderful media to promote creativity.
Dottore tried his best not to laugh. Little did they know, Pantalone only said this to get a shit out of Pulcinella.
"In my opinion, Arlebina is better," Childe added casually as if talking about his favourite book.
Everyone turned to him.
"I got siblings-" he defended, raising his hands in front of him.
"Clearly nothing's as traumatizing as Dottolone," 18, who came to hand reports of the latest experiments said in passing.
Everyone just stared as the segment placed the report.
Dottore grabbed him by the scruff just as he turned to leave. "I need to have a word with you after this."
"Oh yes, those are the most passionate ones," Signora chuckled.
Every time someone opened their mouth, it lead to several questions. Questions no one had the courage to try and pry out answers for
"Let's end today's meeting here," Pierro finally said rubbing the bridge of his nose.
hihi !! i love ur writing sm, pls could i request pantalone x reader with the kissing to avoid someone trope (if that’s what it’s called??) !!
maybe they’re at a ball/gala thing and reader is being hit on by a guy who just won’t take no for an answer and she’s like “oh i have a bf” and he’s like where and blah blah she goes over to pantalone and she’s mouths that she’s sorry and just kisses him
TYSM <333
໒⦂ 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐄.
notes. hello anon! tysm for the kind words, that makes me so happy to hear<3 and ofc you can! i love this idea a lot, been musing it w dottore and my oc in my ggl docs augh.. so i hope that gave me enough practice for this<3 hoping pantalone ain’t too ooc, haven’t written him all that much aaaaa
genre. fluff
tw. attempted harassment, use of ‘dear’
pantalone x gn!reader.
if there was a reason behind your lack of presence at formal events, it had to be the small talk and the drunken talk. the kind where people no longer even knew what the hell they were even going on about — where personal space became optional, and where ‘no’ was just a suggestion no matter how many times it was said.
something you were not entirely a fan of, as you stepped back with an awkward laugh and a dream to put space between the two of you. conversation could be had without breaching one’s personal bubble, and yet he was drawing closer to you not even a second after. there might as well have been metal attached to your body and an eager magnet on his.
and the yapping — archons, it never ended. he was stressing- insisting that you joined him at his place for the night, promising the world if you did. breakfast, clothes, the finest wine in his cellar — everything he could think of in the moment despite repeating some options ( see wine ) more than once already.
but what the hell would that do for you when this guy was hardly someone you wanted to spend an evening with? for goodness sake, you were in the middle of getting rid of him and nothing seemed to get your point across!
there was but a final resort left, and it was a hard lie, no doubt about it.. something you might even regret if worse came to worst.
but if it could get this squid off your back, you were willing to deal with those consequences after.
clearing your throat when the other seemed to lean forward to claim your lips, you placed a gloved hand over his own, offering a strained smile. “look, no offense — but i fear i cannot possibly be kissing strangers here, sir.. my partner,” you paused, looking around for good measure. “it’d be such a betrayal to him- to his affection, and i couldn’t possibly do that to someone i so dearly love.. so if you would,” a pause, a breath. “please refrain from overstepping such boundaries with me.” otherwise, hands were about to be thrown.
only when the weight didn’t push anymore against your palm did you remove it from his mouth, stepping back an inch with a hope that your point might have gotten across. it was the old, ‘sorry i have a lover’ trick — which worked quite often, and usually got people to back off..
but by the skeptical look you were given in return, this guy.. wasn’t budging.
“strange.” the nobleman finally said, folding his arms over his chest. “if you have a boyfriend, then why isn’t he with you? why leave you alone for the night? to toy with the feelings of others?” he pressed, stepping forward. “i don’t buy it one bit.”
annoyed, you backed up another step, patience leaving you as you fought back the urge to clock him right then and there for the public to see. “it’s an event — we are allowed to mingle and not be glued to one another for the entirety of its duration. furthermore there’s something called trust and oh, i don’t know, boundaries.” something he certainly wouldn’t know about. “so either take my word for it, or i’ll call him over right now and tell him you tried taking advantage of me.”
being the one to stumble back this time, he let out an appalled gasp, or scoff — you weren’t sure, shifting a hand over his heart in offense. “i have done nothing of the sort, and now you’re just — making things up! lying through your teeth!”
and that was the last straw.
turning on your heel after a scalding glare, you marched up to the nearest contender — tall, lean perhaps, clad in opulent black and violet fabrics — evidently engaged with a masked man dressed in white, azure and onyx. good grief, you felt bad to have to do this- but what other choice did you have?
“excuse me,” you called out loud enough to reach his ears, mentally whipping yourself for having interrupted the conversation of not one, but two beautiful men that looked strikingly familiar. goodness, if they were harbingers- it was so over for you, but that could be dealt with later.
this was the priority.
“hm?” the dark haired one mused out, offering a small smile. “is something the matter? i don’t believe we’ve-”
“sorry-! just follow my lead!” you intercepted, pulling the raven haired male against your lips for a haphazard, but telling kiss. it wasn’t by any means your best work, however it wasn’t meant to be. it was something to ward off the piece of shit staring with his jaw dropped for flies to take up residence.
only when you caught him turning away did you take a step back from the man you had just shared breath with, straightening your clothing out before offering a sympathetic look. “forgive my actions — that was.. barely consensual, considering what i was just trying to avoid.. but i couldn’t think of anything else.” you tried explaining, holding up a handkerchief to the other, who more or less had opened up his eyes to really see you this time.
and rather than anger, or to snatch the cloth from your hands, amusement had adorned his features, along with this quiet aura of understanding.
he smiled, to your absolute surprise. “no need to ask for forgiveness of any kind, certainly with a reason like that.. i almost wonder how such a man had managed to slip into an event like this, nobility or not..”
“those with wealth and even an inkling of status flaunt their mora like second nature.” the seafoam haired male chimed in, tucking one hand behind his back. “i shall alert fatui personnel to dispose of him immediately. do excuse me, and i better not catch you with another cigarette in my absence, regrator.”
regrator? that was.. oh.
just your fucking luck — they were harbingers. and you just kissed the ninth.
dammit.
“of course i walk up to the finance guy..” you muttered mostly to yourself, tucking away the fabric in your hands before leaning forward to bow. “my apologies — i was.. not aware that you were pantalone of the fatui harbingers. i don’t think i would have gone up to you otherwise..” you spoke up, lifting your head only when you heard the low chuckle above you.
“does my rank make me less of a contender for a fake boyfriend?” he parroted back, tilting his head. “if anything, i would quicker think that it would be of more value.”
letting out a sigh that more or less became an exhausted laugh of your own, you rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “it’s more so that i shouldn’t involve a harbinger in something as mundane as this.” in other words, a coverup because someone didn’t get the memo.
but at least another did.
pushing up his glasses, pantalone then extended a leather-clad palm, humming. “well, i’d say i am quite involved now.” he whispered, dark curls bouncing as he leaned forward. “so might i interest you in something as mundane as a dance?” he offered, meeting your gaze. “i wouldn’t make a good fake partner if i didn’t, after all.”
incredulous, your eyes locked with his violet ones, blinking once and then twice before you placed your hand in his own after a hum of consideration. “i guess you wouldn’t.” you returned, moving your opposite hand to his shoulder. “‘suppose we’d better fix that, then.”
“already a step ahead of you, my dear.” he chuckled again, allowing his free hand to meet your hip. “however, i do expect an appropriate payment afterwards.”
your lips curled, lashes lowering cheekily. “a less sloppy and half-assed kiss, got it.”
notes. sorry this is a little rushed</3 still trying to recover a little but i wanted to finish this up since i had a draft for it :’) anyway- i haven’t written much for pantalone but i hope i was able to get his character ok!
tysm for reading! consider leaving a tip if you enjoyed<3
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childe x reader
summary: with a job like yours, it was easy living. after all, it wasn't as if writing letters got you involved with the fatui... or would it?
notes: fluff, 2.5k
masterlist
The sign above your table says LETTERS WRITTEN, ALL LANGUAGES, FAIR RATES, and beneath it, smaller, added after your first month in Liyue Harbor taught you what the work actually was: DISCRETION INCLUDED.
Sailors, mostly. Men who never learned their characters or learned them in some northern script the harbor has no patience for. Dockworkers sending mora home with a line or two of proof they're alive. Once, memorably, a Millelith sergeant dictating a love poem so bad you charged him half price out of pity. You write what people say. You do not improve it unless asked. You have learned that the errors are usually the point — that a wife in Qingce reading the food here is grate hears her husband's voice in the misspelling, and would not thank you for correcting him out of the letter.
He arrives on a Tuesday in the ninth month, when the harbor smells like rain that hasn't decided yet. Two fingers of his right hand splinted together, the wrapping clean and professional, the kind of clean that means Bubu Pharmacy and money. Fatui greatcoat, worn open. Ginger hair, and a face that has decided in advance to be pleasant.
"You write letters," he says.
"The sign is fairly honest."
"Snezhnayan?"
"Among others."
He sits down across from you without being invited, which you will come to understand is simply how he enters spaces, and lays his splinted hand flat on your table like a passport.
"Occupational thing," he says. "Should be a few weeks. I write my family every week and my handwriting with the left looks like a chicken died on the page. Can you do today?"
You take out paper. You uncap the ink. Around you the harbor goes on shouting at itself, cargo and gulls and someone's argument about salt fish, and he watches your hands settle into position with an attention that feels less like curiosity and more like assessment, like he's checking your grip the way you'd check a stranger's knife.
"Whenever you're ready," you say.
He starts talking.
The first letter is to a brother. Teucer. Aged somewhere in the single digits, going by content, which concerns a toy salesman, a promise about a whale, and an extended lie about how boring the work is here. Nothing happens all day, he dictates, cheerful, one boot hooked around the leg of his chair. I sit at a desk and stamp papers. Yesterday I stamped forty papers. Pray for me.
You write it exactly. You do not look up. There is a bruise coming through at his collar, older than the fingers, yellow-green, and you write I sit at a desk in your best hand and let it lie there on the page being untrue.
"You didn't ask," he says, when you're blotting it.
"Ask what?"
"Anything." He's tipped back on the chair's rear legs now, balancing, testing. "Most people ask. Fatui walks up, everyone's got a question. You just wrote it down."
"You paid for a letter. Questions cost extra."
He laughs — a real one, short, surprised out of him — and pays for the letter, and overpays, and is gone into the crowd before you can make change.
He comes back the next Tuesday. And the next.
The letters map a family the way a coastline maps a country: edges first. Tonia, who is owed a dress from Fontaine and reminds him of it, apparently, in every letter she sends. Anthon, who broke something and blamed the dog, and the dog, whose innocence Ajax argues for at dictation length. His mother, to whom the letters are shorter and gentler and never once contain the word cold, though it's October now and you know what his home country is in October. His father gets a single line most weeks, and the line is always sturdy, weight-bearing, the way you'd speak across a fence to a man you respect and cannot talk to.
He never says the word Fatui in a letter. You never write it. The work stays offstage, a scuffed boot, a new cut across the knuckles of the good hand, a week where he shows up with his voice sanded down to something quieter and dictates three sentences and stares at the water while you write them.
You learn him the way you learn anyone whose mail you carry — sideways, in negative space, from what gets left out. You know a dozen men on this dock who lie to their families. His lies are better made. He builds his mother a version of her son who is safe and bored, builds it fresh every week, plank by plank, and pays you to hold the boards straight while he nails them.
"You want to know what I actually did this week?" he asks once, catching you catching the bandage on his forearm.
"No," you say.
"Liar."
"Discretion included. It's on the sign."
He looks at the sign. Then at you, longer.
"Everyone in this city wants to sell me something," he says, almost to himself. "You won't even sell me your curiosity."
In November he starts asking your opinion.
Small things at first. Whether miss you reads better at the top of a letter or the bottom. Whether Teucer will notice that the harbor festival he described happened, in reality, to be four months ago. Whether his mother can tell, in someone else's handwriting, when he's lying.
"She can tell in your handwriting?" you ask.
"She can tell in my breathing. From across an ocean." He says it with the helpless pride of a man describing a natural disaster he happens to love. "But letters, yeah. She says my loops go tight when I'm hiding something. Started ignoring anything I wrote below a certain size."
"And in mine?"
"In yours, everything comes out even." He watches you square the page. "You'd have made a good forger."
"I'd have made a rich forger."
"So why letters?"
You could give him the practiced answer, the one about steady work and honest coin. Instead — and later you will not be able to say why, except that the rain had finally decided and was coming down soft on the awning, and the harbor had gone quiet the way it only does under rain — you tell him something true. That you like being the room where other people's tenderness happens. That most people are braver on paper than anywhere else, and you get to sit in the blast radius of it all day, and it ruins you a little, and that the ruination, their trueness is something you've decided to keep.
He doesn't say anything for a while. The rain works on the awning.
"Blast radius," he repeats, finally, like he's turning it over for flaws and not finding one. "Yeah. All right."
He pays for the letter. He doesn't overpay this time, which somehow feels like a greater intimacy which unnerves you — as if the transaction has stopped being a performance and become just the ordinary cost of a thing he needs.
The splints come off sometime in late November. You know this because you notice everything about his hands by now, which is your own confession, though you try and keep it under discretion. The two fingers move stiff for a week, then less stiff, and by the first snow that doesn't stick he is flexing them absently while he talks, cracking the knuckles, drumming the table, a hand entirely returned to service.
He keeps coming.
You say nothing for three Tuesdays. On the fourth, watching him spin the pen you have never once seen him need across the back of those healed fingers, coin-trick smooth, you set down a blank page and don't pick up your own pen at all.
"Your hand's fine," you say.
The pen stops.
"It's been fine for a month. You've been paying me to transcribe letters you could write yourself." You keep your voice level, fair rates, all languages. "I don't mind the money. But I improve errors when asked, and this looks like an error."
He looks at you across the table. Behind the pleasantness there's a rapid analysis going on — you can see it, you've watched him do sums on people all autumn — and then, remarkably, you watch him decide to stop doing it. The pleasantness doesn't drop so much as it opens, a door left unlocked from the inside.
"She writes back more," he says.
You wait.
"My mother. Since it's been your hand. Longer letters, more of them." He turns the pen over once, sets it down. "Took me a while to work out why. Then I got it. My handwriting, she reads on guard. Looking for the tight loops. Waiting for the lie. Yours, she just — reads. Believes the boring desk. Sleeps at night." He shrugs with one shoulder, a gesture that wants to be light and isn't. "Turns out the best thing I ever did for my mother's peace of mind was break two fingers."
The rain awning drips. Somewhere down the pier, a bell.
"So no," he says. "The hand's fine. The letters aren't. They're better here."
There are perhaps four things you could say to that, and you consider all of them, and what comes out instead is:
"You could just tell her the truth."
"I could," he agrees, easy, terrible. "She'd carry it the rest of her life. She'd carry it into her sleep and her cooking and her other kids." His eyes come up to yours, and there's no pleasantness in them at all now, only the accounting, turned inward this time. "I'm not buying handwriting. I'm buying her a son who stamps papers. That's the whole product. You're just the only vendor."
You pick up your pen.
"Same time next week," you say, and something in his shoulders comes down half an inch, and you pretend not to have seen it, and he pretends not to know you're pretending, and this, you understand later, is the exact moment the ground shifted, though at the time it only felt like Tuesday.
Winter arrives at Liyue Harbor the way a rumor does, secondhand and diluted, nothing like the real thing. He tells you about the real thing. Not in letters — between them, after them, in the ten and then twenty and then forty minutes that have attached themselves to the transaction like barnacles. Snow that erases fences. Silence you can stand inside. A porch with amber lights his mother has kept lit so long the whole family navigates home by them without thinking of it as navigation.
You tell him things back. You're not sure when that started either. The village you came from and won't return to. The three languages you dream in, unevenly. The Millelith sergeant's poem, recited from memory, which does to him what it did to you and leaves him wheezing against the table with his forehead on his sleeve.
He starts bringing tea. Two cups, from the place near Feiyun Slope, always the same order for you, which means at some point he watched you order and kept it.
You are not a fool. You write love letters for a living; you know the genre; you can read the tropes at a distance in any of several languages. You know what it is when a man memorizes your tea. You also know who employs him and what the coat means and that men like him are a lease, not a purchase — the Tsaritsa's first, the mission's second, the family's third, and whatever's left over after that wouldn't fill a teacup. You have done this arithmetic. You do it again every Tuesday. The number never improves and you keep, every week, arriving anyway, setting out the good paper anyway, learning his order back.
The last Tuesday in the twelfth month, he sits down and doesn't start talking.
This is new. He always knows the first line before the chair takes his weight — you've teased him about it, said he must draft on the walk over, and he'd grinned and not denied it. Today he sits with his elbows on your table and his healed hands folded and looks at them like a man about to bet more than he brought.
"Letter to my mother," he says.
You get out the good paper. You uncap the ink.
"Ready."
He starts slow. Mama. The weather here doesn't know how to be winter, you'd laugh at it. The usual bones — Teucer's whale, Tonia's dress, the desk, the papers, forty of them, pray for him. Your pen goes along, even and believed. And then, without any change in his voice at all, without so much as a breath's worth of warning:
"There's someone I should tell you about."
Your pen writes it. Your pen is more professional than you are.
"She writes letters for a living," he goes on, eyes on the middle distance, voice at dictation pace, level, unhurried, as if this were the salt-fish argument and not — "here in the harbor. It's her handwriting you've been reading since autumn, you've probably noticed, your eyes are better than mine. I broke my fingers in September, which was the second luckiest thing that ever happened to me."
The pen keeps going. It has to. That's the work — you write what people say, you don't improve it, the errors are the point, and this letter is arriving through your own wrist one clause at a time, in your own even hand, on your own good paper, and you have to keep your loops from tightening.
"She knows what I do. Not the details — she's never once asked, which you'd like about her, she's discreet the way you're discreet, it's on her sign but it's also just true. She lets me be the boring man at the desk. Every week she helps me build him. I don't think she knows" — and here he pauses, the first pause, and you feel him look at you and do not look up, cannot, the ink would betray you — "that he's the man I'd rather be. That an hour at her table is the only hour all week I'm anything like him."
The harbor makes its sounds. The bell down the pier. Your pen at the bottom of the page, waiting.
"You can stop writing," he says quietly. "That part wasn't for her."
You set the pen down. You look up.
He's watching you with everything unlocked, no accounting, no product, just Ajax — the name from the top of the letters, the one the world hasn't gotten to yet — and his hands flat on your table like that first Tuesday, a passport, offered.
"I'll finish it left-handed," he says. "Chicken and all. She should read that part on guard."
You look at the page. At your own even hand carrying his voice, all the way down to the last honest line of it.
"No," you hear yourself say, and pick the pen back up. "I'll write it. She'll believe it in mine."
And it lands the way the rain did that day in November, soft, decided, both of you in the same small dry space while outside the harbor goes on shouting — his laugh coming out low and stunned and real, his hand crossing the table, and your pen already moving, even, believed, writing you both down.
i’m not gonna do anything with this idea but i sure do think about it a lot
you’re in a relationship with pantalone. he’s not home much and is often away for extended periods of time doing harbinger stuff and all that. as such, you’re often exchanging letters. you like to send yours with a nice little kiss mark at the end of the page, since you think it’s cute. but of course, when he receives your letters, he just can’t help but press his lips against that same mark. he just misses you that much
It's 1 am and classes start tmrw but lemme just add something and then set my alarm ☝🏾
He waits for the letters to come.
There was a knock at the door of the office of the 9th harbinger.
"Enter-" came a voice just as soon as the door was knocked on.
A Fatui official entered through the door. "My Lord, I have brought the documents you requested."
"...I see," Pantalone said looking up from his documents. "Leave them here and go."
It was a clear and precise order yet the official looked confused for a moment because it was as if he saw the ghost of... disappointment across the face of the 9th harbinger... 'It must've been the trick of the light,' the official told himself and moved forward placing the documents on the table then leaving.
Pantalone leaned back on his chair with a sigh, dropping his pen against the document he was looking over.
It has been seven days... He recollected.
A week without a letter from you, his beloved. Surely the letter he sent last time reached you by now and you giggled over the ways he affirmed his love for you- he couldn't help but wonder.
...What if something happened to you??
He dismissed the awful thought as soon as it came. It couldn't be. The mansion you were staying at is heavily guarded and the moment something were to happen, he would be notified immediately.
Nevertheless, it's been too long so he couldn't help but perk up every time there has been a knock at his door since the last two days, hoping, expecting a letter to arrive.
He ran a hand over his head and pushed his chair back with a screech as he stood up. He decided to go check whether a third party was intercepting the mail or not.
He reached for the doorknob and opened the door with the intention of storming investigating the post office himself.
He paused in place seeing an official at the door.
The official looked alarmed at his sudden appearance.
"Leave the documents on my table. I'll look them over later," he politely told the faatus infront of him.
"It's a letter, my Lord."
Pantalone dropped every thought revolving around his head and reached out. "I'll take it then," he said without even asking about the sender. "Thank you." He took the, familiar (documents don't come in cute envelopes) envelope in his hand and closed the door behind him re-entering his office. He opened the seal as he sat on the armchair.
...........
..........
He took his time carefully going over your letter with a rare soft smile on his face.
And ar the end, just as always, there was the red taint of a kiss mark.
His gloved fingers ran over the mark gently with a longing stare wishing that it had been your lips making contact instead.
He brought his head down, brushing his lips against the exact same spot as you placed yours sitting far away from him within the comfort of your home.
Waking up feeling like you couldn't breathe, the weight on top of you shortened your breathing circulation for a moment. Stirring up awake, you dart your eyes down to see a familiar messy black and grey hair greeting your vision, thats the first thing you see the moment you open your eyes. You tried to move but his weight is preventing you from moving further than an inch. He unconsciously tighten his arms around your waist, and you just realized, this man has totally got you stuck underneath him.
"Wrio, baby." You called out to him, he didn't respond at first till you call him again for the second time with the same sweet words. You earned a groggy hum from the man himself, seemingly not bothered on moving himself away. Instead he snuggled his face closer to the crook of your neck, "..what?" His sleepy voice greets you as you laid there, trying to get him off. Only for him to tighten further. "I am not moving, so don't even bother." He added as he blink his eyes awake, he seemed to be.. pouting?
"I need to go to the bathroom," ".....no" "Wriothesley." "Fine, 2 minutes." He begrudgingly move away from you, though he presses his lips on your pulse for only a second before he move his entire weight off you. And as soon as he got off you rush to the bathroom, unbeknownst to you he had sat on the bed. Half naked. Just in his boxers as he sat there waiting for your return.
And when you returned, the view you're having is your man, sitting on the bed, half naked, eyes half awake half asleep, bed hair, waiting for you, with a pout on his lips. Clearly hates the fact that you are not in his arms right now, "Done? Now come back here." He open his arms as he wait for you to approach him. As soon as you're within his arm's reach he pulled you back down to the bed, and once more he put his weight on top of you. "Oh Archons— Wrio, I'm getting squished." "No you're not, now let me get my sleep." He grumbled and nuzzle his face at the crook of your neck again, his arms wrapped around your waist as he press his lips on your neck. He then whispered—
A/n — Hnngngnn, more Clingy Wriothesley please. That big puppy is a putty for you. Come on. I know y'all can see the vision. I love cool wrio but like, we need to see him as this big puppy that cannot go separate ways from you, he needs you 25/8.
⤀ synopsis: neuvillette has always been the gentlest of lovers—and so tonight you ask him not to hold back
⤀ cw: fem!reader, unprotected + rough sex, size kink, praise, overstimulation, breeding + creampie, marking, monsterfucking (dragon cock), cervix fucking, multiple orgasms, dumbification, mentions of mates, lil bit of dom!neuvi (??) but he is still sweet — mdni || ꒰ 8.4k wc ꒱
⤀ notes: leviathan fic for leviathan neuv (and I don't mean his constellation) repost from my old blog
“Well? What do you think?” You come home, twirling before him in a gown, different than the one you had left in. The short hem at the front lifts mischievously, teasing just a peek of what lies underneath, while the longer, flouncing layers of skirts behind you, wrap flirtatiously around your legs. Neuvillette feels his throat run dry.
“Navia and Clorinde thought it was high time I changed my look, and you know I can’t ever say no to Chioriya Boutique.”
While he’s spent the better part of the night reviewing court documents in the parlor, you have been out with Navia and Clorinde, who he thinks have perhaps plotted to kill him. ‘Girls’ night,’ you had called it.
Draped in a vivid palette of the finest fabrics, decorated interchangeably with delicate metalwork and dainty ribbons, the blush on his pale skin is ever-present as he rakes his eyes up and down your body. The dark, patterned stockings, squeezing your thighs just enough, so that supple flesh spills obscenely over the top, the tight, whale-boned embrace of your corset, accentuating the curves of your waist, and pushing upwards the swell of your breasts…
A coy smile graces your features when you catch how his throat bobs in his silence. Giggling, you lean down, tracing the tip of your finger up the contours of his neck, skimming the gentle curve beneath his chin until you’ve tilted his gaze to yours. “Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, got nothing to say?”
How can he even think, much less find the right words to say, when the familiar scent of your perfume fills his head with indecent, lascivious thoughts? Everything about you is intoxicating, almost insidiously attractive, so would it suffice to say that he’d much rather see your pretty, new dress abandoned somewhere on the floor?
That first pulse of arousal translates into the first twitch of his cock, and oh how he wishes to kiss away your teasing little grin, but his lust-driven eyes are drawn to the miniscule movements of your bodice sleeve, predatory as he watches how it begins to shift, ever so slowly, off your shoulders.
“If you don’t like it, then perhaps…” You loosely roll your shoulder, letting the sleeve slide right off. “…you’d like to help me undress?”
That, he will gladly do. His hands fly to your waist, dragging you down into a straddle over his hips.
“Temptress,” he murmurs into the skin of your neck, distracting you with a featherlight kiss as his nimble fingers waste no time in undoing the delicate clasps of your bodice, leaving the heavy outer garment to tumble off your shoulders, abandoned in a pile at your waist.
Cool air licks at the now exposed skin, though it’s nothing compared to the warmth of his lips as he slots his mouth against yours, gently coaxing you open with a subtle swipe of his tongue. Your eyes flutter shut in honeyed complacence, allowing Neuvillette to kiss you slow and sweet; impassioned, ardent, each kiss an oath of love and longing and lust.
Desire blooms like romaritime flowers upon water, and you just know the tension underneath his placid exterior, is ready to burst. It’s prevalent in the way his muscles grow taut, tense beneath your every touch, fighting to hold himself back as your legs squeeze around his hips. Demonstrated, again, by how he pulls apart your corset, impatient and haphazard as he unlaces each cross, before tossing it to the ground, forgotten. And of course, only you can attest to the searing sensations of his escalating kisses—gentle wisps, once faint and docile, now wanton and heated with depravity.
You can already feel it in your chest, in your bones, in the wetness that’s begun to form between your legs; maybe it’s the anticipation, but despite the layers of clothing you’ve already shed, you find it even harder now to breathe, especially as he holds you so close, body pressed against yours, while he traces the bare curve of your neck with his lips.
For one with such a carefully crafted visage of elegance and poise, Neuvillette becomes sloppier as his restraint fades and lust seeps through the cracks. Something about you drives him wild, draws out the more carnal side of him that he so desperately seeks to hide away from you, who he could never even dream of hurting.
But perhaps he’s spent too much time amongst humans. Or perhaps he understands their nature more than he had initially believed, for he makes the most human mistake of all in letting his control slip—enough that his fangs graze upon your sensitive skin, sending a shiver that reaches all the way down to your core, eliciting a moan so mellifluous, he cannot help but utter a sigh of strained content as the undeniably sweet sound reaches his ears.
“If we don’t stop now, I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold back,” he mutters, tongue laving over the spot in apology. It doesn’t help that you voluntarily crane your neck, offering him even more access in your heated bliss. His fingers dig into your waist in a silent plea to still your rolling hips.
“So don’t,” you breathe. “Don’t hold back tonight.” Desperate to have him closer, you arch into him, the loose material of his shirt firmly clasped in your hands, deepening the kiss with a quick tug, a silent request for him to let go, but he immediately halts his movements, pulling away in hesitance.
Oh Neuvillette. Your sweet Neuvillette, who in spite of his stern exterior, is the gentlest of lovers—always so tender with you and steadfast in placing your pleasure before his. You know of his draconic origins, know that he holds back in fear of hurting you, but for all the times he’s pleased you to the fullest extent, you only wish to do the same for him.
Your hand reaches to cup his face and he leans into your familiar touch, steely eyes soft. “It’s okay, I trust you.”
It’s already difficult denying you anything on a normal basis, so how can he, now that you sit, straddled over him, determination colored in your bright eyes, and with nothing but flimsy cloth left between the two of you. His eyes linger at your chest, the scooping neckline of your lace slip doing nothing to hide the smooth crests of your collarbones, begging to be marked.
Neuvillette sucks in a breath, and attempts to swallow his doubts, before exhaling. He can no longer ignore the tightness in his groin, and to you, it’s clear that the obvious erection poking from beneath his trousers, speaks much louder than the uncertainty storming in his eyes. Perhaps he just needs one more push…
Your fingers come to curve around the sharp lines of his jaw, unwavering as you tilt his head up into your gaze. “Don’t worry about me, I can take it.”
His heart threatens to leap out of his chest in a flash of excitement, gratitude, desire; it’s far from the first time you’ve lain together, but to choose to bear such vulnerability before him, to surrender yourself to a full-fledged dragon… He glides his hands over the round slopes of your shoulders, easily sliding off the straps of your slip as he goes. The silk garment collapses down your torso, piling atop your forgotten dress.
“If that is truly what you wish…” He presses an openmouthed kiss to the bare skin between your breasts, and the warmth of his breath runs a chill even colder than the night air. His whispers hide a growl, and despite the blush apparent at the tips of his pointed ears, his hold on your waist tightens. One hand slides down to grasp at your rear, and you can feel him smile against your lips, the rattle of a faint chuckle rippling in his throat before your breath hitches as he picks you up in his arms, and carries you off to the bedroom.
He sets you by your shared bed, tearing off his now wrinkled shirt, while you wriggle out of whatever’s left of your dress, until both sets of clothing are discarded somewhere on the floor, and you’re finally left in only your panties and your stockings.
Immediately, his hands find your waist, roaming up and down over your curves as he smothers you in hungry kisses, herding you along until the backs of your knees hit the edge of your shared bed. This Neuvillette nips at your bottom lip, not asking for, but demanding entrance into your mouth, and you have no choice but to let him in, what with the way he makes you whine as he sneaks his hands down to knead the globe of your ass, before lowering you onto the bed.
The tingling sensations bloom in your stomach, buzzing with excitement while you ready yourself to surrender completely—pliant to his will, whatever it may be. Arousal swallows you like the sea and he has yet to even really touch you. Impatient, your hand wanders, though not far down enough before you’re caught in his grasp.
“Patience…” he mutters, pinning your wrist beside your head, broad shoulders caging you in between him and the sheets. His other hand follows the natural lines of your body, tracing along the edges until he stops to fondle one of your breasts.
It’s impossible to relax your speeding heart at this side of Neuvillette: less reserved in his touches, more candid in his wants. The untreated heat in your body makes sure to touch on every part of you, running like water through your veins, until you’re sure your dripping cunt is pulsing with a heart of its own. Unable to stand the ache any longer, you wriggle beneath him—rolling your hips and squirming until your knee unwittingly brushes against his crotch, eliciting a choked grunt from him, only slightly muffled by the fact that his teeth have dug their way into your exposed flesh.
He immediately pulls away at the sound of your surprised yelp, eyes darting to and fro across your features in frantic search for even the smallest semblance of discomfort, completely missing the way your entire body had seemed to arch into his touch. His eyes finally settle at the light indentations now displayed upon your once unblemished skin.
“Forgive me,” he begins, “I should have been more careful.” Neuvillette is ever the gentleman, but his voice is clearly strained in a poor attempt at fighting back his instincts—instincts that demand a dragon to mark what is his.
“There’s nothing to forgive.” A soft smile graces your lips as your hand reaches to cradle his face, curling around his jaw in hushed reassurance. It’s so easy to read the thoughts that plague him so. “It felt good, I promise.”
True to your word, his heightened senses easily pick up on the scent of pure arousal that drifts from between your legs, swirling in the air, and lulling him into a state he’s kept buried for so long, he’s unsure of whether he’d be able to hold himself back even if he wanted to. He admires your bravery for daring to poke at the slumbering beast; bravery he knows stems from a place of passion, but how can he release such inhibitions upon a mere human? So physically… fragile.
“I meant what I said: I can take it. And I know you won’t hurt me so…” Your fingers clasp around his shoulders, pulling your lover down just far enough to whisper, low and sultry, in his pointed ear.
“Don’t you dare look down on me, o’ hydro dragon sovereign..”
You lurch forward, manicured nails drawing light lines down his bare back, and he meets you halfway in a long, drawn out kiss. A quiet growl rumbles from deep within his throat, clearly aroused by the way you had drawled out his full title. He nips at your bottom lip, dragging out a single, short gasp before leaving to trail wet kisses down the column of your throat, never stopping until his lips hover over the very spot where he had previously made his mark.
He doesn’t even have to touch you, just his presence, tangled with your own anticipatory excitement, invites a shudder so deep, you can feel it in your bones. The sharp edge of his fangs scrape along that still-sensitive patch of skin, lightly, as if testing the waters, though this time, he makes sure to take note of the quiver in your pretty little mewls.
Slowly, he bites down again and a moan slips past your lips, forced out from the very depths of your chest as your fingers fly to tangle in his moonridden tresses. His hot breath seeps past the barrier of your skin, leaving every nerve privy to his effect, and combined with the building pressure, you’re left open for the stream of soft whimpers that leave the perfect ‘o’ of your parted lips. As he sinks his teeth deeper, you squeeze your eyes shut in the midst of all the pleasure.
“Do it again,” you gasp, “felt good… ”
And oh, he has absolutely every intention to, what with the way you’re putty underneath him. However, he must do something about how distracting your hands are when you tug at his hair: hard enough for him to groan with an ache so wanton, it sends tremors echoing down until his trousers feel far, far too tight.
Neuvillette is neither here nor there when he alternates between kissing and sucking and biting at your tender flesh—anywhere is fair game when you’ve relinquished yourself to him like this. With how attentive his lips are along your body, you hardly even care for the absence of his hand when he reaches around to untie the ribbon in his hair… at least not until it’s too late and you're left bemused by the uncharacteristic display of boldness; after all, it’s all you can do when your wrists are suddenly so tightly bound overhead.
You whine as he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, suckling and swirling his tongue, while he ravishes the other between his fingers. Heat surges through you and the aching desperation congregating in your belly begins to boil; you’ve never felt so sensitive, never been more pervasive to his touch.
Inside. You need him inside of you. But with your hands currently incapacitated, you’ve no other choice except to buck into him, beckoning him with your hips in the hopes of redirecting his attention to where you throb.
“Inside. Please. I need you. Need you inside.”
He hums in acknowledgement of your wishes, tugging at the hardened bud with his teeth, successfully wringing another shaky cry from your throat, before he finally pulls at the delicate lace of your panties, and guides them down the length of your legs. You easily kick them off, but in his observation, his piercing gaze catches every thrum of your muscles as they tense underneath the hand that finally trails between your thighs. He drags his lithe fingers between your folds, coating them in your slick, while his thumb rubs your clit in slow, but firm, circles.
“My apologies for the wait.” Neuvillette kisses you right above your heart, where his acute hearing easily picks up how it palpitates as he dips his fingers into your velvet walls. “Allow me to make amends, my love.”
With the way your cunt gushes so copiously, it’s easy for him to slide all the way down to the last knuckle. He flicks his wrist, pumping fast and hard, scissoring you open before slipping in a third digit, drawing out mewl after pathetic mewl, as you fail to pull yourself together. The bedsheets twist beneath your incessant movements: simultaneously squirming not only from the initial stretch, but also to feel him deeper.
The discomfort is all too familiar, but with just the curl of his fingers, it washes away into unadulterated pleasure, just as it always does. But with your arms tethered, leaving you open and powerless, everything—every touch, every twist, every curl—feels tenfold.
Plus, no one would even believe you if you were to say that the chief justice had such a playful side in the bedroom; his fingers have explored your insides far too many times for him to just miss the little spot that he definitely knows by muscle memory. Whining, you buck your hips, senselessly grinding into his hand, hoping he’d get the message, hoping he’d quell your heat right at the source.
But something dangerous and wild and primordial shines in the blue-violet glow of his eyes. For all the times you’ve made love together, he’s never seen you like this: so desperate, so needy for him. He pinches a nipple, hard, before locking your jolting hips down; a show of strength to remind you of your place.
“Please, more.” Your voice rises in congruence with how you struggle against your ribbon-bound wrists. His fingers tease the spot again, this time with more force, and he watches as you keen and clench around him—helpless and at his mercy.
With a curl, his fingers crook inside your silken walls, pistoning in and out, fast and hard. Arousal continues to build, turning the low squelches into distinct suctions. Every nerve in your body is ignited, seared by the heat as he laps at the overflowing wetness that seeps out of your entrance. A satisfied purr sounds in his throat, and the vibrations dare your hips to buck in spite of the iron grip that holds you down.
It thrills him to see you steadily fall apart like this, coming so undone before him, dissolving under the weight of your pleasure. It’s just as you had wanted. More. So you can take it, can’t you? You can take more?
Neuvillette slots your throbbing clit into his mouth, hot tongue relentlessly striking the swollen nub with viscous lashes, while his fingers continue to bully your insides with no intention of slowing down. Sucking harder, fucking faster—you keen at the added stimulation, back arching clean off the bed in blinding pleasure, unable to do anything more than let out jagged sobs as you cum.
Your entire body grows taut as he sees you through the end of this high, before finally drawing out with one last sleight of his hand, so that his fingertips might graze along the velvet top of your walls, bidding farewell with another shudder-inducing wave of euphoria. He exits his soiled digits, clearly pleased as he inspects the amount of slick that coats his elegant hand.
“You’re absolutely divine.” He hums whilst licking up the side of his wrist, so as not to waste a single drop of your liquid pleasure. It’s intoxicating how exquisite you are, more decadent than even the most pristine of waters. “Perhaps you’d like a taste?”
His offer is rhetorical at best, as he answers for you, already slipping his slender fingers into your open mouth, tangling them with your tongue, until the first bits of drool begin to dribble from your lips.
He unties your wrists, releasing them from the ribbon’s hold; time and experience have proven that you’ll need something to grasp onto. In a haste, Neuvillette discards what remains of his clothes, and his cock springs forward in all its glory: long and thick, pale tip leaking and thrumming with desire.
“You’re absolutely sure… ?” he mumbles, voice trailing off, almost embarrassed. He can no longer control the way his hips twitch in excitement, begging to bury his cock into your warmth, but for his gentle heart’s sake, he needs to hear you say it again.
You laugh out a soft ‘yes’ but just for good measure, you rake your nails down his chest, applying just enough pressure to tickle his nerves. “Use me,” you goad. “Come on. Be wicked, my dragon.”
Neuvillette exhales, chuckling softly at humanity's arrogance. Wicked dragon. If that was what you wanted... “I wonder if you’d still say the same after I’ve finished with you.”
He pins you back down in one fell move, and aligns himself to your entrance, stopping after inserting only the tip. A delicate whimper leaves your lips as you wince at that familiarly sweet stretch, but you and your little cunt are both so eager to please—the continued arousal you churn out, weeping nonstop, and already clenching around just his cockhead. You wriggle into him, trying to fuck yourself deeper on his fat cock as you adjust to his size.
Reaching up, you pull him into a seemingly reassuring kiss, hands smoothing over the framing pieces of his hair, before curving around his jaw. His lips follow yours, but as you pull away and the short pieces of his hair fall back into place, you notice how his slitted reptilian pupils are dilated almost round.
“You wish for me not to hold back,” his voice comes in a low growl as he inches further into your cunt, “so please show me how resilient you are.”
It’s all the warning you receive before he slides the rest of his length to the hilt, burying himself in your creamy insides. A shattered sob tears through the room, and your arms fly around his neck in a desperate attempt to anchor yourself, but it only pulls him closer as he leans more of his weight into you, pressing down and reinforcing the heavy plow of his merciless hips.
Taking him all at once like this burns like wildfire. Pain from the sudden, rough stretch spreads hot and fast, the small embers bursting into a blaze of arousal as pleasure breezes through just as quickly—like air infinitely adding to an already devouring flame.
“You’re taking me so well,” he praises, turning his head to reward a small kiss to your cheek. Your hole gushes, rushing to quell the heat, and the added lubrication helps you settle into his pace. Still, the dual sensations wash over you like the tide. It pulls you under, drowns you and consumes you with absolute ecstasy.
And just when you think you’ve grown accustomed, Neuvillette lifts your hips, aiming for the spot he knows will drag out the most wonderfully broken cries from your throat. Your nails dig into his back, and he groans at the vice grip as you clamp down around his cock. With each powerful thrust, he buries himself balls deep with a force that has your tits bouncing along to his rhythm, letting the wanton sound of your sobs ring throughout the room, loud enough to almost drown out the lewd noise of skin slapping upon skin.
The coil in your belly is wound so tight that you’re sure it won’t be long until it collapses into itself. That it won’t be long until you yourself are about to implode, like a star ready to burst.
“I’m going… going to…” Between the ragged breaths and the overwhelming sensations of ecstasy, you can’t even find it in yourself to think straight.
Neuvillette hums, his liquid smooth voice doing nothing to hide his amusement. “You’d do well not to break so soon.”
He thumbs your clit, drawing tight circles, ignoring the way you convulse beneath him. As your back arches, he drags the flat of his teeth from the edges of your collarbones, down through the valley between your breasts.
Your entire body quivers, legs jolting by reflex to the intensity of your orgasm, vision blurring white as your lover continues to pound relentlessly through your high. There’s a layer of fuzziness over your mind that leaves you feeling as if you’re floating atop calm waters, but the fingers still thrumming on your abused nub are quick to drag you back into the salaciously dangerous depths of your own pleasure.
A string of pitched whines follow in the aftermath, but the pretty noises you make has him throbbing even from within your tight hole. You ask him not to hold back, yet here you are before him, so small and pitiful, already writhing from the intensity—and he hasn’t even cum yet.
Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, your body struggling for a break from the stimulation, but Neuvillette finds it quite adorable, in the way that a predator might toy with its prey. He slows his thrusts, but reaches deeper with every roll of his hips, each languid stroke hitting the exact spot that fills your sight with stars.
The lascivious sounds of your soaked cunt perfectly swallowing his cock, followed by the slap of his heavy balls on your ass—he’s mesmerized by the way he disappears and reappears, and disappears again inside of you. His heart skips, and he bucks, breaking his rhythm. You undo him like no other, and it spurs him on that he too, seems to have the same effect on you. The way your pussy holds on to him so tightly, the helpless cries of his name amidst your hiccuped whimpering…
He lets out a small chuckle, breath hot and ragged in your ear as he sucks at the inch of skin below. “Surely you can give me another,” he murmurs, the low grumble of his voice reverberating all the way down, until you can feel the vibrations in the hollows of your collarbone.
Your eyes flutter, desperately blinking away the wetness that has begun to gather at your lash line. Sweet Neuvillette, your Neuvillette who reveres you more than he ought to and touches you like you’re made of glass. Even through the numbing haze, you know that for him, you’d give anything.
A long, stuttered moan breaks out from between your lips. As if biding his time, he drags the entirety of his cock along your walls, the large vein that wraps around the length gliding along just right, that your back arches and your knees bend. It’s not that he means to move so tortuously slow, but you squeeze him to such an extent that in spite of his aching need to cum, he cannot help but try and savor the delicious way your walls are gripping for dear life.
Neuvillette pulls out with the sticky squish of your slick. His throbbing cock, long and flushed, glistens with the sheen of your juices. In the emptiness, you think that perhaps he’s taken pity on you and your now overly sensitive cunt, but that just isn’t fair. Not to him, nor you and your once again looming orgasm.
“You haven’t even cum yet,” you gasp, trying to argue through baited breath. The whole point of this was so that he could feel just as good as he always made sure you did. So why would he—
“I know.”
You can feel him as he lifts you, flipping you over like you’re nothing more than a doll, and manhandles you onto all fours. Limbs weak, mind frazzled, you’re barely able to hold yourself up, so when he realigns himself at your entrance and slams back through your folds with just as much power as before, you quite literally fall apart.
“Too much?” The low chuckle in your ear is dangerously taunting, wickedly amused and with no sign of its usual sweetness. You’re able to muster a pitiful whine, but the way your entire body trembles tells him everything he needs to know, as he reangles you mid-thrust.
“I believe you said you could take it.” With a particularly powerful snap of his hips, your arms buckle, and you collapse onto the mattress. The intensity continues to send you jolting forward, but his reaffirmed grip on your waist holds your hips in place.
Nothing deters him as he ruts into you, hitting deep new angles that have your fingers grasping at the sheets while your cunt grasps onto his cock. With every slap of his skin against yours, his tip threatens to kiss your cervix, the aftershocks rippling through you until they’re released as broken sobs, muffled into the bed.
How unfortunate that such noises, so very sweet to his ears, would be hidden from the world. Tangling his fingers along your scalp, Neuvillette tugs at your hair, lifting your head back so as to hear the pretty melody you sing when your cries ring around the room. Good. Just as the whole of Fontaine should recognize a dragon’s mark on your skin, they too should hear it’s he who pleasures your body so.
Little bits of drool trickle out of your open mouth, your eyes rolling back as he keeps up the brutal pace. Everything feels too overwhelming, yet so tantalizingly good, that your back curves and you’re creaming around him again.
Electricity shoots through your veins, your lungs desperately racing to catch up with the rapid beat of your heart. The stars painted across your vision drop down to your stomach, exploding with an intensity that rattles you to your core. It’s a flood with no remorse—taking and leaving nothing in return, easily washing away any and all thoughts, until you’re left mewling the name of the only one who could ever give you such a sweet taste of heaven.
But Neuvillette continues to thrust into you, and as he, too, nears his peak, his tireless strokes finally melt into something a little more forgiving. Just a little. The long drag of his cock slides so smoothly against your slick walls, gentle enough to fool your delirious mind into loosening your grip around him.
What trickery from the wicked dragon who slams his hips forward with enough force so that your body jostles with every push and pull as he hits all the right spots again and again. Trapped under the weight of his body, all you can do is feel: the heat of the room smothering all your senses, the fervorous thrusts pushing you to your very limit—all you can do is feel and take it as he kisses the spongy head of your cervix, leaving you without a semblance of sanity, blabbering indiscernible nothings that beg to milk him dry.
“Want more,” you keen, voice as broken as the crystalline tears that roll down your cheeks and melt into the pillows. “Inside. Wan’ it inside.”
Neuvillette laughs, low and airy, strained as his grip tightens, fingertips digging into your hips hard enough that it’d be sure to leave bruises come the morrow. “Is that what you want?”
“Please, please I–” You stop to let out something between a pant and a moan. “Want you to, h-hah, cum inside, wan’ your cum inside me.” Your walls clamp down even harder, as if attempting to trap his cock deep inside you forever, as if you weren’t already tight enough around him.
White fills his vision, and white fills your womb as Neuvillette cums to the knowledge that you love this. He takes in the sight of you, his precious treasure, now reduced to the likes of a common whore: legs quivering, ass in the air, cunt filled to the brim and leaking from where the two of you merge. All for him. By his doing.
Such splendor automatically evokes the instinct to claim you in a way far beyond that of human understanding… but you’ve already let him indulge more than enough tonight; he couldn’t possibly ask for more.
You whimper when you feel him stir again inside you, careful as he brushes past your too-sensitive folds, but even such simple movements hazard to relight the flicker of arousal once again. Every ridge and vein, drawn out so agonizingly slow, sends an inadvertent shiver down your spine until he finally pulls out with a squelch.
There’s no hope in tearing those sharp, reptilian eyes away from your puffy cunt, abused and messy and leaking with your combined fluids. Neuvillette sucks in a breath, trying to suppress his urges as much as he’s trying to swallow down the desire quickly boiling over in his belly again. Cumming inside you—no, breeding you—was a privilege. For dragons such as he, it’s a ritual reserved only for mates, and given the difference in your physiology, he had never allowed himself to do so—at least not until now, that is.
In his defense, you had begged for it, and how could he ever deny the very one whom he has entrusted his heart to—especially when you were so beautifully fucked out and unraveled on his cock like that. And perhaps he’s lived among humans long enough to forgive this indulgence as a paradigm of fleeting desire, though nothing of what he feels for you could ever be considered fleeting.
He parts your folds with two slender fingers, giving himself a better view as his cum now seeps out with suent access. You whine again when you feel him drag his digits down the sides of your pussy lips, catching the overflow before it can fall onto the sheets, and stuffing it right back into your little hole. No point in stopping now, if he’s already committed his sin.
From your half-lidded gaze, you manage to steal a glance at your lover, and judging from the erection that still stands stiff as a rod, he has yet to be satiated. In the attempt to break through the shadow of delirium, you lift your head, shifting your weight back onto your elbows, and forcing your battered body to turn just the slightest bit over.
“You’re still hard,” you note through staggered breath, “We can go again if you want.”
Neuvillette looks down as if he hasn’t already been feeling the near painful arousal throbbing in his groin. Of course he’s still hard—how could he not be; you’re so complacent before him, offering yourself to him like that. But perhaps he is too soft-hearted, for he only lets out a reassuring hum as he leans forward to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.
“You were beyond perfect tonight,” he murmurs. “It… might not be pleasurable for you if I continue anymore. I can finish myself.”
Lovestruck, you shake your head. “I can take it r’member?” Your large eyes, red-rimmed and dreamy, plead for him to use you—use you to his own content, use you so that he’d feel just as good as he always makes you feel. You nibble at your bottom lip, bashful. “You can even use your other form if you'd like...”
Your words catch him off guard, and he immediately stills in a half-hearted attempt to collect himself as another wave of pure, unadulterated desire pulses through his entire being. Neuvillette swallows hard before letting out a slow, shaky breath. His cock twitches and his muscles tense beneath the creamy skin that now seems to gleam with a soft shine, revealing scattered patches of effervescent cerulean scales. You affect him more than you could possibly know, revitalizing such carnal urges that ignore his will and allow his body to react so enthusiastically.
“You’re sure…?” His normally polished tone is husked in a defiant strain. Despite the way his pupils are blown wide and wild with lust, conflict still swims in the shallows of his expression, made clear by the way his voice rasps as he desperately claws to retain even a semblance of his composure.
The tips of your fingers trace the blue streaks that protrude from the crown of his silver head, now hardened into twin ribbons of ivory; his horns, delicate but strong, glow a luminescent azure—so warm and inviting in its radiance… You grasp them tight, pulling him down with you, as you fall back into the bed, his lips pressed against yours. Of course you’re sure. He’d never hurt you, your Neuvillette would never ever hurt you.
“Devious…” he whispers between kisses, your tongue and teeth clashing in a waltz of their own, as his body drapes over yours.
It’s not the first time you’ve seen him in this form, crossed somewhere between a human and a dragon, as beautiful as he is powerful. But it’s certainly the first time you’ve ever attempted to take him like this. He’s bigger in this form—you can already feel it as he grinds up between your legs. Longer. Thicker. Ribbed and embossed with the same pearlescent blue scales. Beautifully intimidating, just like the dragon sovereign himself.
And as you continue to marvel, he lets his cock rest across your lower stomach, sizing you up. His fervor shines through in the way he’s already leaking a mess of sticky precum atop the smooth skin of your belly. A satisfied hum vibrates in his throat, clearly enthused.
“This is how deep I’ll be,” he muses, almost apologetic of the incoming stretch you’d have to endure. “I’m beginning to wonder if I can even fit inside you.”
Would it be wicked of him to admit, even to himself, that he enjoys the way you wriggle and cry just taking him in his human form? And yet… he’s forced to steady his breathing in a poor attempt at grounding himself—a task near impossible as you roll your hips up, ardently shaking your head no, outright ignoring the last out he offers.
“I will… make it fit.” They’re the last words you manage to wrangle out before being overtaken by the need to be full and filled. There’s no reason you should be so terribly, terribly hollow, when he’s right there. Neuvillette chokes back a laugh; your unyielding determination sends blood rushing to his erection, desperate to feel your velvet walls crowd around him again.
Finally relenting, he teases your entrance—running his cock up and down your slit, spreading your wetness, before slapping your clit with the tip—reminding you just how sensitive you still are. Gasping, you jerk away from the stimulation that once again taunts your nerves. Your hole, however, clenches around nothing, eager to please.
But perhaps you’ve greatly underestimated just how big he is, because he barely makes it past the threshold of your folds, before the pleasure pain of the stretch begins to take over. That, and the overstimulation from your previous orgasms, already have you instinctively trying to snap your legs shut, but the firm hold on your thighs forbid you from doing so.
“Ha-ah N-neuvi—” A twisted sense of pride swells in his chest at the way you can hardly speak as your breath hitches and your lungs desperately search for air. “’s too big,” you sob.
He gives you a momentary reprieve to adjust, while his hand snakes down to run sloppy circles over your clit.
“More?” he whispers.
It takes you a minute to respond, but he waits until finally your voice shakes with the violence of each hiccupped sob. “More.. please…”
A baritone hum sounds in his throat as he pulls forward, pressing wet kisses to your jaw in a quiet reassurance, effectively sliding a couple inches deeper, as he does so. “You can take it, my love. You’re so pretty like this.”
Your arms wrap around his neck, your hold eliciting a long, low groan from the dragon. Wherever you squirm, he follows, pressing more of his weight onto you, burying more of his cock into you. Each ridged inch that slides past your folds, seems to push the thoughts right out of your head, letting them dissipate into thin air until you’re left mindlessly moaning sweet praises to his name.
Desperate to accommodate the unfamiliar enormity of his dragon cock, your walls ripple and tense around him, back arching into him, wanting to feel ever closer to the love of your life, determined to push your cunt to its limit for him. For your Neuvillette.
Neuvillette. Neuvillette. Neuvillete. He’s all you can think about; him and his monster cock that seems to split you so deliciously open. It’s wave after wave of heat that sets your insides ablaze, soothed by the waters of arousal that have you begging for more, and restarting the cycle until he finally bottoms out, and you feel as if you’ve been electrified. You squeeze your eyes shut, but with the way his bulbous tip prods at your cervix, your mind goes blank, and the tears fall regardless.
“There…” you pant, eyes glassy from the euphoria of feeling so incredibly full. “’s all in.”
“Yes,” he praises, softly. “Look at you, so nice and tight for me.”
He wipes the salt from your cheeks, distracting you with a delicate kiss. His fangs are more prominent in this form; you can feel them as he grins against your lips, whilst whispering breathy nothings that tell of how good you are for him, how perfect, how he should be so lucky to have you like this, to have you as his.
When your body eases enough, he pulls away, though the subtle shift of his cock still drags a pitched whine out from your lips. If he’s to be honest, he cannot tear his gaze from where the two of you are joined. It’s mesmerizing, hypnotic, to see how he splits you open, to feel how you mold into the shape of him, to imagine just how much your little cunt had to stretch so that he might rest comfortably inside.
Though, comfortable might be an overstatement due to the way your muscles tense and release so tightly around him, clamoring for more of his attention. Eyes darkening with lust, Neuvillette smooths a hand over your abdomen, cerulean scales cold upon your skin.
“Can you feel me right…” He draws a clawed finger delicately across the skin of your belly, where his cock rests parallel underneath. “Here…”
He leaves more than just a faint line of red where his talon rakes. Yes, you want to say. You can feel the faint prickle of his claw on your skin, you can feel how the sharpness sends a shiver ringing through your body, and of course you can feel how he’s sheathed his dragon cock right into the very depths of your cunt, deeper than anyone’s ever been, deeper than he’s ever been… But the only sounds that spill through your lips are another stream of broken sobs, fever touched by how close you are to cumming just from being filled.
“Go on, darling. Cum for me.” He can feel you pulsing around him, clenching and unclenching in search of sweet release, yet he makes no additional moves to help you, leaving you to your own devices.
At this point, you can no longer tell if you’re making things better or worse, as every little movement knocks you into reaction—like dominoes toppling over until every piece of you has been unraveled. You writhe atop the soiled sheets for any sort of friction, but it’s too much when his tip knocks against the entrance to your womb. So you shift away, letting the ridges on his shaft graze against your syruped walls, inciting another wave of need. The scales continue to tip between ‘too much’ and ‘more’, until you finally work yourself into a delirious orgasm, on nothing but his cock inside you and your own incessant squirming.
As you continue to ride out your high, Neuvillete finally begins to move, tearing himself away from your fluttering vice grip with a tremulous moan, because fuck you’re still so tight around him, still so warm and wet even after cumming for what? The fourth time tonight? Pressure lands heavy over your frame as he begins to rock into you, folding you in half as he does.
He fucks you slow and even, stretching you out even more with every new stroke. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream as this new position affords him the privilege to reach impossibly deeper. Despite his shallow thrusts, each drag of his cock still blooms an ache from all the hidden spots that he has no choice but to touch, though it’s quick to pass, as pleasure continues to coil in your belly.
It’s so much all at once. You can’t take it, it’s too much. But the soul-shattering euphoria of being so utterly full, is unparalleled. You want more, you need more.
“My pearl,” he whispers, though his voice is gruff, “my heart… I want to hear you.”
And so you oblige him, wailing something broken and pitched and strangled, at the sudden snap of his hips, at the way he bumps into your cervix and seems to rattle your organs about.
“F-fuck,” you cry, without thinking. Not that you can anyway, when the push-pull tide of his thrusts raises you to new heights of delirium. “H-ah god, fuck Neu–”
Another sharp, jutting thrust cuts you off as the dragon above you snarls, clearly agitated by your crass choice of words. “There are no gods to help you here.” Not in Fontaine where he rules, and certainly not here in his home.
There’s a feral wildness that shines in his bright vishap eyes, and his possessive streak flares—dragons have no natural inclination to share after all. It’s clear in the way his pace changes: faster, harsher, more ragged—a ferocity befitting of an elemental dragon ruler. But titles aside, he’s still your Neuvillette, and every move he makes is still laced with a tenderness, so as not to break you more than he already has.
“Tell me you’re mine,” he commands, dragging his tongue up the length of your throat.
“Yours. ‘m yours, Neuvillette.”
In and out, in and out. His long strokes guide the ridges of his cock back and forth through your tender muscles, leaving you to mumble mindless nonsense as you convulse and keen beneath him. Whatever pain you had felt earlier has long chipped away into undeniable pleasure as you near the precipice of yet another orgasm. Eyes glazed over in all consuming ecstasy, all you know to do is to chase your lust, and so your hips grind back, rolling together like waves in a storm.
Amidst the flagrant wet sounds of your rabid fucking, you cum again, lashes fluttering as your eyes roll, muscles tight as they tremble from such rapture—so lovely, so beautiful. Your siren call of pretty cries spill from your lips, intermingled with weak babbles of his name. You’re so breathtaking like this in your post-climax haze: fucked out and cloudy-eyed, panting into the cool air as his slowed thrusts still rack up an aftershock of shudders.
Neuvillette bows his head, once again trailing wet kisses across your collarbones, before pausing to hover his lips right over the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his warm breath a familiar spot of comfort in this maddening pleasure. Perhaps it’s some sort of sixth sense unique to only the most attuned of lovers, ones whose souls seem to harmonize in perfect resonance, but there’s hesitance in the way he suckles at the spot, fangs ghosting over your tender skin.
“S’okay… you can do it.” Your soft, dreamy sighs of approval are accompanied by the languid tilt of your neck, jeopardizing more of your delicate skin to the dangers of his teeth. “You can mark me… w’nna be your mate…”
Choking back a moan, Neuvillette pistons thrice more into your cunt—pulling out until just his tip remains, and then plunging back into your gooey insides, sending you into another round of dizzying convulsions. His own orgasm follows, seeing stars as he places an amorous bite to the crook of your neck using only the flat of his teeth.
With how deep he’s buried, ribbons of his cum shoot right into your womb, spilling out into every cavity, and painting your interior white. Warmth blossoms from the inside out. Your heart is full, mumbling happy nothings of ‘mates’ in between sniffles, while a creamy ring forms around the base of his cock, thick liquid oozing from where he ends and you begin. His own chest rises and falls in jagged patterns, but his only want is to seek your lips, to drink in your mewls, and exchange sweet kisses, so that your soul and his, may meld together as they dance in the shape of your breaths intertwined.
He strokes your hair, planting easy kisses all around as he unplugs himself, letting loose the flood of cum that seeps out of your hole, but you whine at the loss, wanting nothing more than to be ever close to your newly consummated mate. Neuvillette only nuzzles into your neck, deep purrs of content reverberating from his chest as he lazily rubs his scent all over you. Meanwhile, a quick swish of his sapphire tail up the sticky underside of your thigh, teases another pulse from your cunt, and by reflex, you push out another dollop of white.
A small tap tap to his shoulder distracts him from his scenting, and he looks up with a tilt to his head and a small furrow to his brow, his normally sharp eyes full of earnest concern, relaxing only once he finishes reading through the bleary, dulcet tones of adoration that glow in your half-lidded eyes. You poorly suppress your little giggles—although he often disagrees, your lover really can be quite adorable.
Fontaine’s Iudex Neuvillette is elegant, poised, and meticulously polished… but here in the quiet night hours, in the privacy of your hearth, your Neuvillette is unruly-haired and damp-skinned from satiating the beastly desires of his still tender heart. You reach out a tired arm, first brushing back the pieces of hair that cling to his skin, then wrapping your palm around to cup his face.
“Was I a good mate?” Your hand slips down from his cheek to play with the tips of his silvery hair. “W’nna be the best for you.”
“You already are the best for me.” His hand, no longer clawed nor scaled, brings yours back up for a kiss to your knuckles. “The only one for me.”
He rolls off of you, sweeping you into his embrace, as he carries you off to the bathroom. Your head rests heavily against his chest, but your happy hums and quiet murmurs of ‘good,’ tell him that you have not drifted off into slumber just yet.
“You truly are a wonder,” he breathes, dipping his head to place a soft kiss to your forehead. “And it would be my honor to have you as my mate… but not tonight.”
His instincts had urged him to do it, to permanently claim you as his, and mark you as a dragon would, but his heart vehemently disagrees. The most sacred bond known to his kind is an ultimatum in your relationship, and it is one he refuses to be the sole architect of, so perhaps the two of you can revisit this conversation again once you’re more clear-headed; his answer would remain the same anyways.
notes2: thank you for reading, reblogs + feedback are very much appreciated ♡
Warnings: A lot of talk about childbirth, labor, and possibly inaccurate medical terms. Mentions of storing and freezing the placenta. Segments using swear words and being involved with the delivery (except 8, he's a minor). Segment 35 (Omega), being a little possessive and self-centered as always. No smut, but mentioned and implied nsfw.
Sitting in the labor room, you held the red scarlet-eyed baby in your arms, stroking the infant's tuft of blue hair every now and then. Segment 8, or "Little Doctor" as you like to call him, leaned over the side to look at the newborn, an innocent sort of curiosity brimming in his very own pair of red eyes.
Your baby was born healthy, looking just like a mix of both you and Zandik. He'd helped deliver it himself, muttering about how he trusted no one but him to take the task upon himself.
Well, technically, it was just Segment 25 who helped with the main task; the others volunteered themselves with other stuff, such as weighing the baby, stitching your tears up, cleaning the blood, storing your placenta and umbilical cord for research purposes, etc.
All the segments insisted on helping out, even Little Doctor, who unfortunately had to sit outside for most of the labor but was eventually allowed in to see the baby and check on you. Everyone's main goal was to ensure the mother and newborn were both safe and healthy.
Now that everything was successfully executed, you and the newborn were both taking a small, well-earned nap. All the adult segments turned to look at one another with suspicion.
Who the fuck was the baby's real father?
They all had slept with you, came inside of you, so the possibility that one of them was the father was 20%.
Except they were all Zandiks.
They all had the same DNA, the same blood. They might as well all be identical twins, if identical twins were all the segment of a man who died a century ago.
"Well? What were we all even expecting? That the baby would be born, and we could take a DNA test to verify the paternity? We all share the same blood dipshits. Ever thought of that?" Segment 18 spat out, looking at the other older segments after they'd all stepped out.
Segment 25 merely took off his mask and gloves, opting to let the other Segments deal with the guy instead.
"We were hoping to keep the peace until the baby was born to keep our Lady's pregnancy smooth. You know she gets troubled when we all get into unnecessary fights." Segment 65 explained, stepping closer to your door to make sure it was locked in case their argument woke you up. "A miscarriage would've been tragic. Besides, we all had our own goals to accomplish during this period. I doubt Omega is going to let you have a share of the placenta."
Omega, or Segment 35, who snuck off to the side to keep your placenta in a freezer, shot them all a dirty look. "How rude! Preserving the placenta has it's benefits-"
"We never said it didn't. But must you be so greedy as to keep it for yourself?" Segment 45 cuts off.
"-because I am the most research-oriented out of all of us, one who shall produce the most fulfilling results. In case of a genetic disease or a tumor, it will prove to be very useful." He preened
"You talk as if you're the real father." scoffs Segment 18.
"Well, of course I am. Who else but I could produce such brilliant progeny."
The comment riled up Segment 18, who walked up to Omega's face, his sharp teeth bare, "So sure of yourself, aren't you, old man? You sure your sperm can even swim that far? Your cock get that hard? Well, getting erect would be no problem for such a beauty; however, I bet her fallopian tubes shriveled the moment you got in you son of a-"
"Alright, alright. There's no need to stir up a ruckus right here," said Segment 25, wiping his hands dry on a towel, clearly the most tired of them all.
Unlike the other Segments, he had to be on-call and close to you that day, and hence had stayed by you till the moment you had pushed the baby out. "She's still inside, sleeping, taking a well-earned nap before one of us has to wake her from her blissful slumber in two hours to take her vitals again. Not to mention, we will need to attend to my newborn as well. For now, we could all take a moment, Segment 8 will alert us should anything happen-"
"What do you mean, 'my newborn'?" Segment 45 butts in, "You didn't even try to debate whether the child is yours or not."
"Well, of course, because it is mine. Only fools fight over what's not theirs-"
"Get a load of this asshole-"
"Can we all take this somewhere else, the baby might wake up-"
"Dottore!" a voice booms from down the hall, along with the sound of multiple footsteps.
All Segments turned around to see The Regrator, Pantalone, along with a few Fatui agents carrying many boxes and bags with them.
"I believe congratulations are in order? How is the missus and the baby?" asked Pantalone.
"Who let this guy know about her labor? I thought we were to keep this information from the other Harbingers," sneered Segment 25.
"And you certainly did, I assure you. No one other than me knows about this little joy of yours. I only happened to find out about this because the 8-year-old segment seemed quite anxious about not being let into the operating room. Seeing as you did not hesitate to let him watch the dissection of the original Zandik, my only conclusion about not allowing him in the operating room was that your wife was giving birth. That, and the fact I hadn't seen her for quite some time. Seemed easy to deduce." The Regrator stated, shrugging and rustling his fur coat.
"And what if it was a surgery like, say, an appendectomy? What use are the gifts then?" Segment 18 pointed out.
"Then I believe that you must get started on producing a progeny, no? Anyway, I've brought a few tokens of goodwill. I hope you'll accept them from a friend."
"Leave them out here. She's sleeping, and we'd rather not disturb her or the baby." Segment 65 said, pointing towards a table for the gifts to be kept. "We'll let her know of them as soon as she's able to concern herself with things other than herself and the baby. I hope you understand she's not in the condition to receive guests at the moment."
"That's alright." The Regrator signed his agents to keep the presents on the table and take their leave.
"Speaking of not disturbing the baby, though, what were all of you arguing about? Well, it's not rare to see each of you in disagreement with the other. Rather, it happens pretty often to be rare. But an opportunity that brings all of you together to have such a conflict......."
"We were discussing who the real father of the baby is," said Segment 18.
Pantalone nodded in understanding.
"I'd hardly call that a discussion. But does it truly matter? All of you are the same person, and hence, similar at your core. I'm sure the child would benefit from having multiple parental figures. I wouldn't call it a major issue."
"It is." Said all the Zandiks there in unison.
"Dear Feofan, it seems you still don't understand us all, even when you are a dear friend of ours. We all may be derived of the same Zandik, but as Dottore, we're all different," Omega explained, "Our values, our approach to research, our research, and our view of this world, they all differ due to the number of memories we carry. Determining the true father is determining whose legacy will be carried on. It isn't as simple as 'raising a child'."
".......so it has to do with your ego," Pantalone cheeked.
"How rude, I have genuine affection towards my wife and my child," said Omega.
"There he goes again," Segment 45 groaned, rolling his eyes.
"Oh my god, it's MY baby you twat," argued Segment 18.
"Well, you're certainly not raising my child with that mouth of yours," said Segment 65 calmly.
"Gents, gents," Pantalone raised his hands, trying to mitigate and calm down all the Dottores before it would escalate, lest they end up dissecting another one of them again.
"I have a solution. How about you solve this the way you know best? You're all intelligent and highly educated individuals; surely you can come to a conclusion amongst yourselves."
All the Zandiks looked at each other, as if they had never considered that idea.
"Determining the father of the baby through research. We can't do a DNA test, but....." mused Segment 45.
"Surely, only DNA can't be the only factor to determine the paternity," suggested Segment 18.
"If we can't find a way to find a match with blood, tissue, or DNA, we could always narrow down the possibility of one of us being the father by calculating the fertility factor of our sperm, the time between conception and delivery, and the general condition of the mother and the baby during pregnancy," Segment 35 muttered.
Pantalone sighed, seemingly relieved that he had managed to prevent another Zandik from being dissected today.
"I must, however, object to executing this plan right now," said Segment 25, "her postpartum period is to last for at the very least 2 months, and we have a newborn to care for as well."
"Naturally," all Segments agreed and nodded.
"Then," smirked Omega, "we shall have a time limit of 2 months to conduct our research. Whosoever manages to bring concrete proof along with the timeline and convinces everyone that the baby is theirs shall get to claim the progeny and raise them. Do we all agree?"
"Yes," said all the Segments.
"Then shall I volunteer as a referee? You know, as a neutral party, to keep things nice and fair?" asked Pantalone.
"Of course, friend. You're more than welcome to invite yourself to my research discussions. You are, after all, the one funding all of our experiments," said Omega gleefully.
Pantalone watched with interest as all of the Segments dismissed themselves, some going to rest after what he assumed was a long day of being in the delivery room, others sprinting to their assigned labs to get a head start on their research, while the rest stayed to be available for you.
'Ah,' Pantalone thought to himself, stepping outside and pulling out a cigarette, 'this whole ordeal shall be quite entertaining.'
a/n: hello hello everynyan |˶˙ᵕ˙ )ﾉﾞ I wrote this at 3 am in a fever dream lol. Fun fact: kids of identical twins are genetic half-siblings. SO if you have an identical twin and have a baby, the baby is also half of your twin lol. It gave me the idea about what if multiple people shared the same DNA and boom that's how I wrote this fic in 2 hours when I have like 12 other drafts that have been collecting dust ehe (ᵕ—ᗜ—) I might make a few edits here and there so pls excuse any grammatical errors lol I don't know english well ≽^•⩊•^≼ anyway enjoy ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡
@luminarylorecat Do not repost, translate, adapt, feed into AI, or claim this work. Reblogs and links are appreciated; copying and reuploading are not.
A/N: I think sometimes my brain naturally gravitates toward Varka whenever I need something grounding again. I felt a bit stuck in my own thoughts lately, so writing this ended up untangling my brain more than I expected.
Also yes, this is another case of me disappearing into unexpected Varka missing hours. Some things never change. :D Hope you’ll enjoy! :) 💙
Tags: Fluff. Mutual Pining. Shy Reader. Reader Still Makes Advances. Knights of Favonius Reader (Logistics). Soft Varka. Handwritten Notes. Light Humor. Tiny Acts of Care. Reader Is Down Bad. Varka Is Oblivious Until He’s Not. Gentle Romance.
Word count: 2190
⋆ ✦ ⋆
The first time Varka speaks to you properly, you’re halfway inside a supply shelf.
One arm is buried behind a stack of crates while you glare into darkness with the concentrated fury of someone who has absolutely put an inventory ledger somewhere sensible and is now being punished for their own optimism.
“It was here,” you mutter. “I know it was here.”
A deep voice behind you says, amused: “Should I ask what crime that shelf committed?”
You jerk upright too fast and immediately hit your head on the underside of the shelf.
“Oh for—”
Strong hands catch your shoulders before you can stumble backward completely. “Easy there.”
You freeze.
Varka stands behind you, broad and unfairly warm-looking. His hand is still steady at your shoulder. Concern flickers over his face for approximately half a second before amusement returns.
“You alive?”
“Yes,” you say immediately. “Barely.”
That gets a laugh out of him. “Well,” he says, “that’s good news for the Logistics Company.”
Your brain stops functioning for a moment. Because of course you know who he is.
Everyone knows Varka.
The Grand Master walks through headquarters like sunlight with boots on. He is loud when he wants to be, gentle when he chooses to be, somehow capable of making exhausted knights straighten instinctively just by looking at them.
You’ve watched it happen from a safe distance for months: the way rooms shift when he enters, the way people gravitate toward him without quite meaning to.
You have always watched from a safe distance. Because up close, apparently, you lose the ability to form sentences.
“Here,” he says easily. “What’re you missing?”
“You don’t have to help,” you blurt out immediately.
“Mm.” He leans down to peer into the shelf. “Too late. I’m emotionally invested now.”
You stare at the side of his face while he reaches into the back of the shelf with absurd ease: arm disappearing almost to the elbow between the crates like this is a perfectly normal way for the Grand Master to spend an afternoon.
“You reorganized these recently?”
“…Yes?”
“Hm. Good system. Bad luck. Bit philosophical for a storage room, actually.” A pause. “Aha.”
He straightens with your missing ledger in hand.
You could cry. “You found it.”
“Well,” Varka says modestly, “I am heroic when I need to be.”
You laugh before you can stop yourself. His expression changes into something warm. “There it is,” he says softly, handing you the ledger. “Worth the rescue mission.”
Your face heats instantly. “Oh. Um. Thank you.”
“Anytime.” He steps aside, still smiling. “Though next time I’d recommend less aggressive negotiations with the shelves.”
And then he just leaves.
Meanwhile you stand there clutching the ledger to your chest while your heart attempts to physically exit your body.
You’re aware it’s ridiculous.
You see him regularly. He’s the Grand Master and a person who is, objectively speaking, very busy and very important and almost certainly not spending any time thinking about a logistics person who hit their head on a shelf.
You’re aware of all of this. It doesn’t help. Because now you notice things.
The way he stops to talk to everyone: the younger knights waiting nervously for assignments, the people who pass him in corridors, the guards at the gate who straighten when they see him coming. He remembers names. He asks after people. He laughs easily and means it.
He gives everyone that warm, unhurried attention.
Everyone.
You notice someone come back from his office practically glowing. You watch the new recruits light up when he claps them on the shoulder. You watch another knight smile at something he says from across the room.
And you think: Right. That’s just who he is. That’s just how he treats everyone. There’s nothing special about a man who’s genuinely kind to literally every person he encounters.
You think this very rationally. And then he passes you in the corridor, glances over, says “Good afternoon” with that smile—
And you walk directly into a door frame.
So that’s where you are with this.
The first note is accidental. At least that’s what you tell yourself.
You’re delivering paperwork to Varka’s office late in the afternoon, arms full of reports and requests and three separate forms requiring signatures in entirely different places.
Varka isn’t there yet. You set the stack down carefully. And then you notice the open window behind his desk.
The weather really is nice today. Bright skies, good wind, warm enough that people are lingering outside instead of rushing home. And Varka has been in meetings since morning. You know because you walked past his office three times on errands and heard voices each time.
Before you can overthink it, you tear a corner from your spare paper and scribble quickly:
The weather is unusually nice today. You should probably enjoy it before someone traps you in another meeting.
Then you sign it with your intitial.
You stare at it, then immediately try to grab it back. At that exact moment the office door opens.
You nearly launch yourself into the ceiling. Varka pauses in the doorway. You stand frozen beside his desk like a thief interrupted mid-robbery, fingers still hovering over the note.
“Am I interrupting something?” he asks carefully.
“No.” Too fast.
His eyebrows lift. You feel heat climbing all the way to your ears.
“I was just delivering paperwork,” you say, trying very hard to sound like a functional person. “The forms. For signing. Which are here. On your desk. Which is where I put them. Because that’s my job.”
A pause follows.
“Right,” he says slowly.
“Mm.”
His eyes flick briefly to the note, then back to you. Something amused flickers there. “Well,” he says easily, setting his coat aside, “that seems significantly less illegal than your expression suggested.”
You make a sound somewhere between a cough and a failed prayer.
Varka smiles wider. “Thank you,” he adds, quieter. “For the paperwork.”
“Of course.” You are already moving toward the door. “I’ll—yes. Goodbye.”
You leave with as much dignity as you can salvage. Which is not very much.
Varka doesn’t mention the note the next time he sees you. Neither do you. So you do it again.
The second note comes three days later:
The Sunsettia are particularly good this week. In case you haven’t had a chance to eat properly today. (Rumors suggest you haven’t.)
You cringe for approximately three hours after leaving it, again with your initial. Then you spend another two hours convincing yourself it’s fine. It’s just a note. People are thoughtful. This is normal.
The next morning there’s a Sunsettia sitting on top of the outgoing paperwork in your tray. No note. Just the fruit.
You stare at it for a very long time.
The notes continue. You tell yourself each one will be the last.
Two knights came back from patrol today. They looked tired but proud. I thought you’d want to know they made it back without trouble.
━━
There’s an herb growing near Springvale that’s been blooming unusually late this season.
The smell is quite something. Warm and a bit sharp, the kind that clears your head.
I thought maybe it would help you with the long days.
━━
I heard the meeting ran long again. I hope it was at least interesting.
If not: the pigeons near the bridge have been having a very dramatic morning. That’s free, and arguably more entertaining.
━━
I am going to perish, you think. But you keep writing them anyway.
━━
Varka finds himself looking for them.
He notices the slight lift when he sits down at his desk and spots a folded corner tucked beneath the official stack. Then he sets aside the reports that need immediate attention and reads the small square of paper first.
It’s such a small thing. Observations, mostly. Small careful kindnesses wrapped in your handwriting.
He doesn’t know what to make of it.
He knows the initial, knows who it is. He remembers the storage room, the head-bump, the laugh he didn’t expect to enjoy quite so much. He has seen you since: brief appearances to deliver forms, the occasional corridor crossing where you turn slightly pink and find something very interesting to look at on the floor.
Sincere in a way that’s oddly refreshing. Clearly not used to being looked at directly.
He finds himself making sure not to look too directly. It feels important not to make you uncomfortable.
Surely you don’t mean anything by it, he thinks, setting down a note about particularly good bread. Just a kind person. Thoughtful. Nothing more.
He almost convinces himself.
The in-between visits are the part that get him. You come by his office on ordinary business: forms, updates, once a misdirected delivery that required an apology and a very long explanation.
Each time you knock carefully, state your purpose clearly, hand over whatever needs handing, and then say something genuine and slightly unexpected that throws the whole exchange sideways.
“I reorganized the archives,” you tell him during one visit, while he’s signing forms. “I thought—the expedition records were hard to cross-reference. It made more sense to sort differently.”
He glances up. “Did you run that past Hertha?”
“I asked her first.”
“Good,” he says softly.
“Also,” you add, “I noticed the supply requisitions have been delayed two weeks. It might be the routing. I fixed it.”
Varka sets his pen down. “Just like that?”
“It wasn’t complicated. Just overlooked.” A pause. “I didn’t want the knights waiting longer than necessary.”
He looks at you for a moment. You immediately find something fascinating on the wall beside his head.
“Thank you,” he says. He means it more than the words cover.
You nod, gather your folders, and leave with the specific energy of someone trying very hard not to run.
Just a kind person, he thinks again but quieter this time.
The note that does it is the last one.
It comes on an unremarkable Tuesday, tucked beneath an ordinary report:
I know the meeting is tomorrow. I don’t know what it’s about but I imagine it’s the kind that makes the day feel longer than it is.
I hope it goes well. I hope you get to sleep at a reasonable hour.
I hope you will—
(Sorry. That got away from me.)
Varka reads it twice, then sits back in his chair.
I hope.
Such a small word to carry so much in it.
He thinks about the Sunsettia left without explanation. The herb that clears your head. The pigeons having a dramatic morning. Two knights making it home.
He thinks about the way you find the wall beside his head extremely interesting whenever he says something kind. The way you said I didn’t want the knights waiting longer than necessary like it was obvious.
He’s been telling himself not to assume. He has been doing it so carefully, so deliberately, that he somehow forgot to pay attention to the actual evidence.
He picks up a pen.
You’re in the middle of reconciling three separate inventory counts that absolutely should agree and absolutely do not, when there’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” you say, mostly to the ledger.
“Hm.”
You look up. Varka is leaning in the doorway.
Your brain does the thing it always does, which is briefly stop working. “Grand Master,” you manage.
“You’re busy,” he observes.
“A little.” You look down at the ledger. “The numbers are—they’re not agreeing.”
“They rarely do.” He steps inside, which is unusual. He doesn’t usually come here. You go to him.
You become very interested in your ledger.
“I got your note,” he says.
“I—yes.” Your pen is doing something strange in your hand. “I apologize if it was—”
“Don’t.”
You look up.
He’s watching you with a warm expression. “I got all of them,” Varka says. “I’ve been reading them since the first one.”
“I know. I mean—I assumed. I didn’t expect—” You take a deep breath. “I just wanted you to know that people notice. What you do. And that it matters.” You’re staring very hard at your desk. “That’s all it was.”
“Was it?”
“…Mostly,” you admit.
The silence is extremely long.
“Have dinner with me.”
Your head comes up fast.
Varka looks back at you steadily, waiting, genuinely, for your answer.
“I—” Your voice does something embarrassing. “Yes. I’d—yes. I’d like that.”
Something in his face settles. “Good.” He straightens, already turning toward the door. Then he pauses and pulls a folded piece of paper from his coat. He writes something else on the bottom, grinning to himself.
You squint your eyes but don’t comment.
He sets the note on your desk, then leaves.
You stare at it for a long moment before you unfold it:
The view from the Statue of the Seven is particularly good this week.
You should probably see it before the season changes.
Tomorrow evening, if you’re free.
—V.
P.S. The numbers in column four are transposed. That’s why they’re not agreeing.
You look at column four.
He’s right.
You put your face in your hands and smile so hard it hurts.
⋆ ✦ ⋆
A/N: Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. :)
It is known by quite a few, especially the higher-ups in Snezhnaya, about Diluc's infamous reputation there. He has been blacklisted from stepping foot in there after a certain incident.
This ambitious merchant, an elite from Snezhnaya, came to Mondstadt to make a deal utilizing this very situation. Marry his daughter to the famous, wealthy Ragnvindr family.
"This is the perfect opportunity—" the merchant said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, sitting infront of Diluc inside Dawn's winery. "—I help you clear your name and you'll let me expand my business ventures in Mondstat."
Jean sat on the armchair nearby listening carefully. It may seem like a lucrative offer on the surface but it has it's hidden edges. She has no intention of letting the Fatui extend their claws in Mondstadt, so the answer should be obvious.
Until the sly businessman continued. "My daughter marries into the Ragnvindr Clan. A beneficial alliance…" He paused, addressing the room, looking at Jean, who was listening with caution, before his eyes finally landed on Diluc. “Or I share certain… stories from Snezhnaya. Stories the people of Mondstadt might find… troubling.”
Diluc clearly understood what he was implying.
This is not something Jean can ignore as his friend and as the acting grandmaster. Although not privy to the details, Jean had an idea of what happened— he got into trouble with the Fatui.
Diluc himself was not concerned about his reputation. "That's fine. My past… it doesn't really bother me," he said, gripping his cup as the unpleasant memories surfaced.
The merchant said smoothly, "I imagine the citizens would feel differently about it if they knew. Imagine the look on their faces when they discover what their… bartender is capable of.”
Jean couldn't take his yapping anymore. “Threats will not—”
“They are not threats,” the man interrupted. “I'm not entirely heartless. They are options. This is up to Master Diluc whether he chooses to comply or not.”
The doors to the entrance opened, revealing Kaeya. “Well, well,” Kaeya drawled, “I see negotiations have already turned charming.”
The merchant’s smile widened. “Ah. The Cavalry Captain. Perfect timing.”
Kaeya chuckled under his breath. “You came all this way to play matchmaker with a blade at someone’s throat. Bold strategy.”
The merchant ignored him, eyes fixed on Diluc. “You see, Master Diluc understands something you do not. Reputation is a currency. And I intend to spend his.”
Silence stretched on with everyone contemplating carefully on what the next move should be.
Diluc got up and moved towards the window, boots echoing against the floor. “You misunderstand something,” he began turning around to look straight at the merchant.
The merchant tilted his head and met his sharp glare.
“I do not care what you reveal.”
Kaeya’s smile faded just a fraction.
Diluc didn't care about his reputation. But Kaeya and Jean, they did.
Diluc’s voice dropped, carrying an air of threat. “You came here thinking you held power.”
A faint glow seemed to flicker in his vision, but only for a moment. “You don’t,” the redhead finished.
There was an air of hostility in the air.
Kaeya cleared his throat, interrupting them. "Master Diluc cannot marry your daughter..."
All eyes turned to him, waiting, dreading an explanation.
"You see…" he began with proud confidence. "He has promised his heart to another."
There was a clang of utensils falling somewhere, followed by silence...
.......
Kaeya could feel the unrestrained murder intent radiating off Diluc as he glared daggers at him. He is going to murder him later and dump the body in Dragonspine. Nevertheless, he has to finish what he started. "The weddings in a week," he added very helpfully.
If you ask a Mondstater to verify the fact, they would say, Master Diluc is married to the winery. Even if you ask Barbatos himself, he's going to laugh it off and ask for more drink. So of course everyone present in the room knew it was a lie. Diluc hasn't held a lady's hand in— did he ever hold it in the first place??
Adeline, at a corner, bending down to pick the tray knew it was a lie.
Jean who just rubbed between her eyebrows in frustration and horror, knew it was a lie. It's going to be a hassle dealing with the aftermath. She glanced over at the merchant.
The merchant looked between the two brothers, disbelief lacing his features. Then looked at Jean, seeking confirmation.
His reaction is justified. This kind of detail is not the type to be left out in 'negotiations' such as this.
Alas! She couldn't admit it. Nor could she deny it in front of an individual of his standing, as it would make Kaeya appear as a liar on a diplomatic level. She weighed out the options. Besides, although irresponsible, it is a way out of the situation with Diluc's and Mondstat's reputation intact.
She had no choice but to follow Kaeya's footsteps. "It's just as Captain Kaeya said," she told the merchant, earning a look of betrayal and irritation from Diluc.
"Then why… hide it?"
"Perhaps Master Diluc felt shy to break the news himself…" Jean replied, before Diluc could correct him, trying her hardest to keep a straight face.
The merchant then looked at Adeline, since the servants must know more internal information than outsiders. "That must be it…" she said, looking apologetically at Diluc. There was nothing she could do either as the situation played out like this.
The merchant looked at Diluc, radiating a murderous aura at Kaeya. This is not the face of someone who's shy!
Kaeya knew Diluc wouldn't play along and was hoping someone else would. It's going too well.
And yes... Kaeya is going to die as soon as the merchant leaves today.
—
Y/n L/n finally got a well deserved break and decided to return to Mondstadt to see her family and friends. Although from Mondstadt, she has been mostly staying in Sumeru ever since getting admitted in the Akademia and graduating.
She had suffered hectic days cleaning up after the corrupt Sages at the Akademia and the aftermath of what that evil doctor did. She's got trauma from all the overworking she had to do.
At this moment, she was in the Cat's tail enjoying a drink and petting a cat on her lap when Kaeya approached her...
"Good morning Y/n!" he said, sitting across from her without waiting for her answers. "Long time no see."
"Actually," she dragged her palm across the cat's body, watching him with suspicion. "We saw each other two days ago."
"Right, right," he said, fiddling with an empty cup on the table.
"Would you like me to order you a drink?" she offered as courtesy but Kaeya declined.
Kaeya declining a drink… now that is concerning. "There is something I would like to ask you— a favour."
"What is it?" she said, as she stopped petting the cat and directed her attention on him.
"Would you be willing to marry Master Diluc?" He said, getting straight to the point, hitting her with the blow.
.............
..........
"Eh— What...??!" She wasn't sure if she heard him right. Even if she did it must be a prank.
"Will you marry Master Diluc… within this week," he said again.
“I’m sorry…” she said flatly. “Did you hit your head on the way here??”
Kaeya chuckled nervously. “Not recently, no.” But a certain someone might do the courtesy if he doesn't fix the situation. And the only way to fix it was to go through with it since he's a dead man anyway.
“I’m serious Kaeya,” she said.
“So am I.”
He explained the circumstances to her.
………..
“You’ve completely lost it,” she said after he was done.
“Have I?”
“Yes! Who goes around asking random ladies for their brother's hand in marriage??” This whole situation is absurd.
"Not just any lady. You are the only person who came to mind. Luckily, you happened to be in town."
"And why is that so?" She said, crossing her legs after the cat got off and forcing a smile.
"We are dealing with Snezhnayan elites here," he began. "Any poor lady would have a hard time getting approval and they would push for breaking the marriage and standing by their terms. Nothing much we can do," he shrugged.
"So you choose someone with a strong background to fight off the higher-ups," she caught on. "I see."
Back at Dawn winery, Kaeya impulsively did what he did. Thinking back on it carefully, it's not a bad idea— Y/n, the scholar who discovered life-saving medicines and founded the well-established healers guild, no merchant would want her on their bad side. All he has to do is get both parties to agree to this. Getting Diluc to agree to his surprise plan is impossible. That's why he was hoping to convince Y/n first, then get her to convince Diluc and maybe help save his own neck.
"And does he… know about this?" she motioned, indicating the situation. She barely knew Diluc anymore as it's been a long while since they spoke, but she did know that his agreeing to this was out of character.
"He knows he's getting married in a week. I think—" Kaeya said shamelessly. He felt a chill thinking of Diluc's glare. "In a moment he'll know who the lucky lady is."
She crossed her arms, disbelief turning into irritation. “No. Absolutely not. Find someone else.”
"Hey, hey— at least consider it for a moment before answering."
"I have no intention of getting tangled with this mess and marry someone I barely know," she said firmly.
"You do know him—" Kaeya pointed out.
"Not well enough to spend the rest of my life with him," she countered.
"There will be plenty of time to do that after the wedding—" Kaeya said brazenly.
She shot him a look. 'This is absurd!'
Kaeya's confidence faltered a little before regaining that air of nonchalance back. Then he reached into his coat and set a small pouch on the table.
Y/n frowned. “What is that?”
“Take a look.”
Reluctantly, she opened it. Inside—rare, pristine medicinal ingredients.
"This— this is found under the deepest parts of the sea in Fontaine!" she examined the material. It was an important component of a medicine she developed, extremely difficult and extremely expensive to obtain. "Where… did you get these?”
Kaeya’s smile returned, seeing he caught her attention. “Connections.”
She looked straight at Kaeya with a straight expression. "I can't believe a captain in the honourable knights of Favonius is attempting to bribe me," she said setting down the pouch.
"You'd be surprised."
Y/n realized Kaeya took action without consulting with Diluc first. Being the person Diluc is, he would never come here himself. “This isn’t just some favor,” she said. “This is marriage. It’s not… transactional.”
“Everything is, in situations like this,” Kaeya replied quietly, the carefree demeanor vanished instantly.
She looked down at the ingredients again. They may be expensive but she has the means— connections even sponsors to collect those, even the most rarest materials. Conflict flickered across her face. If Kaeya's willing to go this far … he is serious about protecting Diluc, in his own way.
“You’re asking me to tie my life to his,” she said softly. “To fix a problem he didn’t even choose to tell me about.”
"I know it would make more sense if Diluc himself were to offer— I know it's a crazy proposition that you have every right to decline," Kaeya’s voice lost its teasing edge entirely. “I’m asking you to help protect someone who would never ask for help himself,” he pleaded.
"I understand but… why go so far?" 'Why go so far as to these measures, like you're the one responsible for this?'
"Because…" he trailed off looking away from her. "Part of it is my fault."
She didn't know what he meant by that. Something did happen. She sighed. "You sure you'll hang on till the end of the week?" she finally said with a light smirk that indicated she has decided on her choice.
Kaeya looked at her, eye widening slightly. "I've come back from worse but thank you for worrying about me," he chuckled.
—
After Kaeya revealed that information, before the merchant could leave, he literally ran away from Dawn Winery, fearing for his life. Now he's back to deal with business.
Diluc stared at Y/n and then at Kaeya basically hiding behind her. “To what do I owe this visit?” He asked despite having an idea.
"Hmm. Not sure how to put it but…" she paused, maintaining eye contact with him. "I was bribed with materials—"
Diluc raised an eyebrow.
"—For your hand in marriage," she finished.
They maintained eye contact for a moment before, Diluc's gaze slowyly slid away to glare behind her at Kaeya.
"In my defense, I just asked for a favor," Kaeya raised his hands in surrender, tension evident in his shoulders.
"Oh really?" Diluc said with an amused look, making Kaeya sweat nervously. "Even when you shouldn't be putting your nose in my business."
Kaeya expected glares and daggers not this— this is making him even more nervous.
"You agreed on Kaeya's request—" Diluc turned his gaze towards her. "Because of materials?"
Diluc never imagined he'd be getting sold for materials like this.
"Well can you blame me? Surely you know the importance of materials. As a pharmacist I can't pass it up," she said earnestly. It's a deal too good to pass up on.
"I don't know what Kaeya told you but I am not looking to get married,"
"From what I heard, it seems like you're in a bind,"
He couldn't deny that. "And whose fault do you think that is?"
Kaeya visibly winced at that.
"So let me help you—" she offered.
"Help me? When you just accepted a bribe?"
"Don't look at me like that," she began. "You're the only one with a brother that cleverly bribes people. Besides, I'm no knight so it shouldn't bother my conscience."
"Hey!" Kaeya exclaimed from the sides.
"If it makes you feel better," she added, "I'll be using the materials to help people. Considering those came from legal sources…" she looked at Kaeya.
"Of course they did. I wouldn't go that far!"
Y/n turned to Diluc and pressed on. “If there’s already a marriage— his offer becomes useless. He loses his bargaining chip. Besides, if he still presses on… I can throw in a little threats here and there.”
“I’m not entering a marriage to appease a blackmailer,” Diluc said coldly.
“It’s not about him,” she countered. “It’s about protecting Mondstadt by ensuring your reputation stay spotless.”
“I can handle the consequences.”
“You might not care what people think,” she said, quieter now, “but others do.”
“I didn’t ask them to.”
“No,” she said. “But they chose to stand with you anyway.”
“You’d tie your name to mine when you shouldn't even be bothering with this,” Diluc said.
“I’m aware.”
“You’d be dragged into matters that are neither simple nor safe.”
“I already deal with danger,” she said dryly. “Usually involving explosive potions.”
“…That’s not the same,” he had no idea what it meant.
“No,” she agreed. “It’s not. But it’s still a choice I can make.”
“I’m curious,” he said, voice calm. “What do you gain from this? Materials won’t drive you this far.”
Behind her, Kaeya leaned forward. He did go and beg her for help but he has been wondering the same thing.
Y/n didn’t answer immediately. For a moment, she just looked at Diluc. Then away. Then back again. Nervously. She appeared to be improvising her life choices. "…You’re not wrong.”
They waited for her to go on.
Y/n exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Alright. But you’re not allowed to judge me.”
“That depends entirely on what you say next.”
“…That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s not meant to be.”
She hesitated. Not because she didn’t have an answer—
But because the answer sounded… ridiculous.
“…I’m being pushed for the position of a sage at the Akademiya,” she said. “Which sounds prestigious until you realize it comes with—”
“Endless paperwork,” Kaeya supplied.
“Endless paperwork,” she confirmed solemnly.
Diluc tilted his head, crossing his arms. “This sounds like a big opportunity regardless.”
“But it also means,” she continued, “endless overwork. Politics. Paperwork stacked higher than the Akademiya itself.”
Kaeya winced. “Tragic.”
“Just reject them if you don’t want that,” Diluc said as if it was the obvious thing to do
"I did. You'd be surprised with how hard scholars can push for something. So…” Y/n said, straightening, “I needed leverage.”
“Leverage? You intend to avoid an appointment at the Akademiya,” he said slowly, “by marrying me."
She lifted a finger defensively. “It’s efficient. Since I'll be having other priorities.”
“It’s extreme.”
“It’s effective.”
Kaeya, ever the observer, crossed his arms. “So let me summarize,” he said. “You save Master Diluc from blackmail, save Mondstadt from potential chaos, and escape from overwork… efficient but people would kill for a position like that,” he pointed out.
"I'd rather wrestle a ruin guard," she stated. "I want to lead a peaceful life. Besides, if I want to get a job done, my masters a sage, he'll lend an ear to my problems."
“I can’t decide,” Diluc began flatly, “if you’re exceptionally clever…or an absolute fool.”
“…I’ve been called worse.”
Kaeya snorted. “I like her.”
Diluc finally said at last ignoring Kaeya. “If this is to proceed, then we do it properly.”
Y/n nodded. “Agreed.”
Kaeya clapped his hands once. “Excellent. I’ll start drafting the best wedding plan Mondstadt has ever seen.”
“You will do no such thing,” Diluc said immediately. “And there will be no deception between us,” he turned to her after a brief glance pointed toward Kaeya.
Kaeya raised his hands. “I feel attacked.”
Y/n nodded in agreement. “No deception.”
“…Very well,” he said.
Y/n exhaled, tension she hadn’t realized she was holding finally slipping free. At least it worked.
—
Y/n sat across from her parents, in the familiarity and warmth of her childhood home.
Her parents eyed her suspiciously. Then at Diluc sitting beside her.
When she appeared at their doorstep arm in arm with the owner of the biggest wine guild, to say they were surprised would be an understatement.
Y/n smiled brightly. Too brightly. She took Diluc's hand in hers just as the plan. “We’re getting married.”
……..
“…You’re what?” her father broke the silence first.
“Getting married,” Y/n repeated. “In a few days.”
Her father looked at Diluc then at her then finally eyes landing on their joined hands. “How,” he said slowly, “did this happen?”
“No,” her mother began, recovering from the shock to interrogate properly. “When did this happen?”
“Is this some kind of a prank?” her father asked.
The questions hung in the air like arrows pointed directly at them.
Beside her, Diluc spoke. “I apologize as this is sudden. We came to inform you,” he began calmly, “and to ask for your blessing.”
“You,” her father said slowly, pointing a shaky finger at him, “are Master Diluc.” Courtesy was at the back of his mind at this moment.
“I am.”
Then her father exhaled, looking at her, rubbing his temple. “I leave you alone and you come back engaged to one of the most influential men in Mondstadt. How did this even happen when you live miles apart??”
“This kind of happened,” Y/n said weakly. She's not entirely lying, this did kind of happen.
Her mother squinted. “When did this happen?”
“…A while ago.”
“How long ago?”
“When I ran into him at Sumeru, a year ago—”
Diluc hasn't been to Sumeru in the past few years but they have to come up with a believable common backstory.
"But why rush this?" her father said, frowning at Diluc.
Diluc was starting to feel the pressure. "Y/n would be getting busy soon so we decided it would be best to get married right now."
“And why are you marrying him?” her mother pressed looking at her. "This is just too sudden.”
Y/n smiled trying not to show she's nervous. She could feel her palms sweating against Diluc's gloved hand that she's holding. She let go. 'This feels worse than thesis defense.' “Love at first sight,” she replied with a straight face.
Her father didn’t blink…
Her mother didn’t blink….
………..
………
“…You?” her father said slowly.
“…Love at first sight?” her mother said.
Y/n held the smile. But it began to tremble.
“You,” her father continued, “who once ignored a festival because you were ‘on the verge of a breakthrough.’”
“You,” her mother added, “who reads medical journals for fun.”
"I had a change of heart with all the time I spent in Sumeru…"
They stared. Unconvinced— very deeply unconvinced. The silence stretched long enough to become unbearable that she cracked.
“…And maybe,” she added, voice dropping a notch, “he said he’d help provide research materials.”
There it was…
The truth they'd accept— or at least a part of it— because they knew 'love at first sight' and their daugher didn't fit in the same sentence.
Her father leaned back in understanding, “There it is.”
“I knew it,” her mother said, nodding. “That’s the part that makes sense.”
Y/n sank slightly into her seat. “It’s not the only reason.”
“Of course.”
“Absolutely not the only reason,” her mother agreed, with zero belief.
She turned to Diluc, who was staring at her with a stoic face, observing the situation play out. She couldn't even tell what he was thinkking.
She gave him a look that said 'At least I tried!' and urged him to do something.
Finally, he spoke. “You have my word,” he said, turning to her parents, “that she will be treated with respect. And,” he continued, after a pause, “she will not be forced into anything against her will.”
Her father was still doubtful. “…Did you think this through?” he told Diluc.
“I have,” he answered.
Her mother studied Diluc carefully. “And this isn't just happening because it's convenient for you?”
“I assure you, it's not.”
“…I’ll be fine,” Y/n assured. “Really.”
Her father sighed. “…You always say that right before doing something outrageous.”
“That’s not true.”
“It has always been true.”
Her mother’s expression softened. She reached forward, patting Y/n’s and Diluc’s hand lightly. "No matter what happens… I hope that you'll be happy."
"Of course," Y/n said, caught off guard by the sincerity iin her tone.
A subtle acceptance. Not full understanding but she's trying. “…Love at first sight,” she murmured, a hint of teasing in her voice.
The bells of Mondstadt Cathedral rang, signifying a holy union— unlike the pretend wedding that's taking place within it's walls.
The guest list was small with only family, friends and a few important individuals attending.
"Not going to complement my dress, Master Diluc?" Y/n teased hoping to lighten the mood as her father handed her over to him.
"You look… beautiful," he stated plainly, as if reading out the weather report.
She chuckled. "You're being compliant," she said reaching out to fix his collar.
"You did ask me to cooperate," he said.
At the front stood Seamus Pegg, Seneschal of the Church. He wasn't aware of the truth but the whole situation felt as if reality has offended him.
He adjusted his robes. Then looked at the two people standing before him. “…I just want to confirm,” he began slowly, “this is not a prank."
It is understandable considering the Diluc he knew would not ask him to officiate his wedding three days ago out of nowhere.
Across from him, Diluc stood composed, as if weddings appeared on his schedule between breakfast and winery business.
Beside him, Y/n stood with the confidence of someone who had made a decision and was refusing to think about it closely.
“It’s not a prank,” Diluc said.
"We wouldn't dare stand infront of the holy church playing off something like this as a prank," she told him.
Lisa chuckled from where she was seated. She rested her chin in her hand. “This is the most entertaining ceremony I’ve attended in years.”
Next to her, Jean sat with perfect posture but regretting everything that lead to this moment. “I still cannot believe we’re proceeding with this,” she whispered under her breath.
"I cannot believe Kaeya's still alive after pulling off a stunt like this," Rosaria said from beside her.
Seamus Pegg inhaled deeply, like a man trying to accept his fate. “Let us proceed…” he said. “Do you take—”
Lisa leaned toward Rosaria, whispering, “Place your bets. How long before one of them panics?”
"I bet they wouldn't even show it if they panic," Rosaria whispered.
"Shh," Jean gave them a stern look.
……
“…I do,” Diluc said.
………
Lisa’s teasing smile softened as the vows neared it's end.
……..
“…I do,” Y/n answered.
Seamus Pegg paused, looking between them one last time, as if expecting someone to suddenly shout in objection.
No one did.
“…Before I finalize the vows,” he said, still eyeing them both with suspicion, “the rings.”
From the side, Kaeya stepped forward with impeccable timing, producing a small box. It opened with a soft click revealing two simple yet elegant bands.
“Prepared in advance,” he said smoothly, offering it to Diluc with a grin that suggested he is enjoying every second of this.
Diluc took it without comment.
Y/n’s heartbeat picked up, suddenly aware of how symbolic something so small could be.
Diluc lifted one of the rings. with steady movements. “Your hand,” he said quietly.
She extended her hand which he took into his with gentleness. His fingers brushed hers as he slid the ring into place.
Y/n stared at the way it embraced her finger perfectly in place for a second too long.
“Your turn,” Kaeya whispered helpfully from the side. She shot him a look. Then took the other ring.
Diluc took his gloves off, practically threw them towards Kaeya and offered his hand.
As she grabbed his gloveless hand for the first time she felt the roughness and the scars. Her hands were not as steady. She slipped the ring onto his finger, a touch more careful than necessary, like she might somehow do it wrong.
“…There,” she murmured staring at his hand adorned with the ring in hers, tracing the scars with her eyes. 'Did he get them from training?' she wondered.
Diluc called out her name squeezing her hand a little which made her snap out of it. She let go.
“…Very well,” Seamus Pegg said. “If there are no further interruptions— then by the authority vested in me… I pronounce you husband and wife. You may seal your vows with a kiss.”
“Oh, this part I’ve been waiting for,” Lisa murmured.
Neither of them moved immediately.
There was a slight shift in Diluc's posture as his gaze flicked to her— just checking. A quiet, wordless 'are you alright with this?'
Y/n swallowed. Then, very subtly she nodded.
Diluc stepped closer to close the careful, practiced distance they had been keeping.
One of his hands lifted, pausing just a moment before resting on her cheek.
Her breath caught slightly as she fluttered her eyes close as he leaned in following her motion, narrowing the distance between them. Her fingers tightened instinctively against his jacket.
She felt the fleeting touch, the warmth of his lips on hers.
She opened her eyes as her pulled back to find him maintaingin eye contact as if acknowledging what had happened.
But he didn't move back out of her space. Instead he looked down to her holding his jacket preventing him from doing so.
"Ah— sorry," she said letting go.
……
Diluc stood with his usual expression on his face— dealing with the formalities afterwards. No one could tell whether he just got married or was planning murder.
"You look like you're being forced into this. Try to relax a little?" Y/n said approaching him.
"I am as releaxed as I can be," he stated.
"While there's nothing wrong with your resting face, aren't we supposed to act like we're head over heels for each other to rebut any rumors," she whispered, leaning closer to him.
"It's going to create new ones," he pointed out, turning his head to come face to face with her.
"New one's that will favor us," she added with a grin.
“…Well, that was beautifully executed.” said Kaeya, approaching them clapping his hands together.
“You’re enjoying this too much for someone who is the cause for all this,” Diluc said, backing away from her space and turning to Kaeya.
Kaeya placed a hand over his heart. “And look how well it turned out.”
From the side, Jean approached, “…Congratulations,” she said, carefully as if she had been considering on what to say. “I still think this is a terrible idea,” she added quitely.
“That makes two of us,” Y/n muttered.
Jean looked between them. “Regardless… I hope the best for the two of you.”
"There's no need to worry," Diluc began, eyes meeting with Y/n's before offering his arm. "We'll manage."
She realized his attempt at playing along. She flashed a smile and grabbed his arm.
“Well now,” Lisa said, coming closer, eyes darting between the two of them, “that was quite the performance.”
“Oh, I’ve only just begun, dear. Such chemistry,” she mused. “One might almost believe it’s… real.”
“It’s not,” Y/n said quickly.
“Mhm.”
“It’s not.”
“Of course not.” Lisa took her asideand leaned in just slightly, voice low so that only she could hear. “Still, sometimes the heart has a funny way of ignoring the script.”
Y/n tried to ignore that last sentence and brushed it off.
Kaeya slung an arm casually over Diluc's shoulder—an act Diluc tolerated for approximately two seconds.
“You know,” Kaeya said, “for someone who didn’t want this, you handled the kiss remarkably well.”
Diluc removed his arm. "If you don't stop your nonsense, the next thing you'll have to handle is a punch to the face," he threatened.
Kaeya moved away, "relax… I was just kidding."
"What do you think of burying him alive?" she whispered to Diluc loud enough for Kaeya to hear.
"That sounds like a great plan," he replied. "I have the perfect location."
"Make sure it's somewhere no one can dig him out," she smirked evilly.
"Well there you have it," Kaeya turned to Jean. "They're gonna get along jussttt fineee~"
"Bonding over planning your murder," Lisa chuckled, "romantic indeed."
—
The sun as setting across the horizon when they stood below the steps in front of Dawn Winery about to enter.
“…So,” she said finally breaking the silence. “…We’re married.”
Diluc inclined his head slightly. “That appears to be the case.”
“I suppose,” she added, “this is the part where things become… practical.”
“Mm.” He wasn't being helpful for a situation as serious as this.
“You’re taking this very calmly,” she said, lifting her dress a little, gaze fixed on the stairs as if she's afraid she might tumble.
“I prefer to handle situations as they are,” he replied glancing at her.
“We just got married,” she stopped to turn at him as she put a foot on the stair.
“Yes.”
“To solve blackmail and avoid academic bureaucracy.”
“Yes.”
“…And that doesn’t strike you as weird?”
“It is. But it is also done,” he said extending his hand. “Let's head inside."
Y/n stared t his hand, then met his eyes. "What do I call you infront of others?"
"Call me whatever you want," he replied, waiting for her to grab on. "I must mention— the staff are aware of the situation so no need to pretend in front of them."
"Okay..." She hummed, thinking for a moment. She couldn't call him by his title or his name. "Let's go inside then—" she placed her hand on top of his flashing him a sweet fake smile. "—darling."
Before they could even step fully inside—
“Master Diluc,” came a warm, welcoming voice. Adelinde stood at the entrance, and behind her, two maids stood, barely containing their excitement.
“And…” Adelinde continued, her gaze moving to Y/n, “welcome home, my lady.”
“My—” She stopped. She needs time to get used to this.
The maids curtsied almost in unison.
“Welcome, my lady,” one of them echoed, smiling brightly.
“We’re so happy to have you here,” another added.
Y/n stood there for a second too long processing. “…Thank you,” she said finally.
"Adeline will show you to your room," Diluc said, gesturing toward the stairs. "Yours is prepared and comfortable." Separate quarters were the unspoken rule.
Adelinde stepped aside. “Everything has been prepared. We hope your stay here will be comfortable,” she said. “And that the two of you will… get along well,” she turned to Diluc.
“You must be tired,” Diluc said as they reached the upper landing. “I’ll leave you to rest. Good night.”
“Oh …Right. Good night”
There was a small, invisible moment where it felt like something should be said. Something about… arrangements, expectations.
The fact that they had just gotten married and were now standing in a hallway like strangers discussing sleep schedules.
Neither of them said anything.
“Lady Y/n—”
She tore her gaze away from Diluc's retreating back and looked at Adeline.
“This way.”
They walked down the corridor. Adelinde stopped before a door and opened it. “This will be your room. I hope it is arranged to your liking.”
Y/n stepped inside—
The room was… beautiful. Not extravagan, but carefully arranged—soft fabrics, warm lighting, a window that overlooked the vineyards stretching endlessly into the horizon.
“…And Master Diluc’s room?” she asked, trying to sound casual.
“On the other end of the hallway,” she replied.
'Is it so that we run into each other as little as possible?' she thought.
“If there is anything you require, you need only ask,” Adeline said.
"It's a lovely room, especially the view from the window," she said turning to Adeline. "It's a shame the view's only confined to the window—"
"I'll be sure to give you a tour tomorrow," Adeline said cheerfully. She moved toward the door, then paused.
“…My lady,” she added, “whatever the circumstances of this union may be… we are glad you are here.”
Y/n blinked, surprised by the sincerity. She wasn't sure what she would say.
Adeline gave her a bow and left.
Finally, she exhaled and let herself drop onto the edge of the bed.
“…Married,” she murmured to herself raising her hand to look at the ring. She turned her hand scrutinizing the deep red gemstone embedded into the band. It reminded her of his eyes— how they used to shine brightly just like when the stone catches light.
She paused dropping her hand, "What am I thinking, I must be tired..." she sighed.
The story starts with Kaeya digging his own grave....
"You see..." Kaeya turned to the merchant from Snezhnaya. "Master Diluc cannot marry your daughter."
All eyes turned to him.
"He has promised his heart to another."
..........
"Would you be willing to marry Master Diluc?" Kaeya told her.
“I’m sorry…” she said flatly. “Did you hit your head on the way here?”
Series Masterlist
Prologue
They met when they were children, before Y/n left Mondstadt for the Akademiya….
It was a nice and sunny day. Her parents had dragged her out to Spring Vale to enjoy the weather and engage herself in outdoor activities.
She has been sitting under a tree near a pond reading her book, enjoying herself indeed, much to her parents' disapproval since they were hoping she would go play with the other children more often.
She heard rustling sounds from the bushes nearby and felt a small figure approach. Ignoring it, she went on reading.
"What are you reading?" she heard a voice say.
She looked up to find a red-haired boy not older than her with his boots and clothes muddy, hair dishevelled, and expression bright.
"A book."
"Oh, Kaeya reads those too," he said. But it didn't seem like he was interested in talking about books. “I found something,” he said, sitting down in front of her despite meeting her for the first time in his life.
"Okay," she said, diving back to her book without paying attention to him.
"Do you not want to see what it is?"
"I don't know you—" she plainly stated.
It didn't bother the boy at all. "I'm Diluc!"
His expectant stare felt heavy for her to ignore. "…I'm Y/n."
Diluc grinned, "Now you have to see this—" he reached into both of his pockets and pulled out two wriggling, damp creatures. “—Frogs,” he announced proudly.
There was a long silence….
……..
......
“…Those are toads,” she said.
“No, they’re frogs.”
“They’re not.”
“They are.”
“They’re not.”
“They are.”
The toads who had no say in this blinked helplessly.
Y/n set her book aside entirely. This ignorant kid has escalated things!
“They’re toads,” she repeated, more firmly. “Frogs have smooth, moist skin. Toads have dry, bumpy skin.”
Diluc frowned, examining one. “…It’s just a bumpy frog.”
“It’s not a bumpy frog,” she pointed. “Toads also have shorter legs. They walk more than they jump.”
Diluc gently set one on the ground.
It did, in fact, walk.
He frowned harder. “…It’s a walking frog.”
“Toads also prefer drier environments,” she continued, fully committed in proving the differences to him. “Frogs are usually near water. Toads can survive farther from it.”
“…So,” he said slowly, “you’re telling me… I caught the wrong thing.”
“…You caught a different thing.”
Diluc looked at the toads.
Then at her. He brightened immediately, forgetting the fact that he had caught toads instead of frogs. “Do you want to hold one?”
“…No.”
“Why not?”
She stared at the creature. Then at his muddy clothes. “They’re muddy and dirty. Go put them back.”
Diluc looked down at the toad. Very muddy indeed. “…They’re fine,” he said.
“They are not fine. You'll get scolded at home.”
“They’re just a little dirty because they live outside,” he said, refusing to let them go.
“You’re very unsanitary,” she finally said.
He shifted slightly, reconsidering his life choices. It appeared he had no idea what that word meant. "I'm not!" he yelled out to maintain his dignity.
"I'll find a frog next time!" he said and left.
Y/n was relieved. He'd never find her. Unfortunately, he tracked her down in the city of Mondstadt near the Knights of Favonius headquarters three days later….
“I’m not unsanitary,” he said, standing in front of her. Looks like he went home and looked it up.
"Okay…" she said, trying to think of a way to run away.
"And I have a frog this time," he held it up to her face for her to see.
She took a closer look in case he got it wrong."It is a frog."
Diluc brightened up. "Do you want to—"
"No—"
………
It became a routine. A very strange routine.
Where most children traded stories or sweets, Diluc arrived with creatures. Jean and Kayea found them gross. Y/n was the only one who indulged him, and that's why he always sought her out.
“Look what I found. It’s a lizard,” he said this time.
She peered closer, observing. “…A skink, actually. They’re quite fast.” She was impressed that he caught one.
“…Skink,” he repeated, committing it to memory.
Another day—
“It’s a tree frog,” she tilted her head over the amphibian that Diluc was holding. "They stay on trees… did you climb one?"
“…a tree frog,” he’d echo. He did, in fact, have leaves on his hair.
This routine continued till she left for Sumeru.
They lead their respective lives, changed into their own persons and years later, the heavenly principals Kayea brought them together (risking his life so gotta applaud him for that).
Kaoru was peacefully working in his room, perched on the floor, when the chaos incarnate entered.
“My cousin is coming–” Y/n burst through the door (without knocking. again) as soon as she got off the phone with her mother, who informed her that her cousin would be coming, and since her parents weren’t home, she was asked to host her. “–the one that didn’t make it to the wedding."
At this point, Kaoru was done pointing out this habit. He gave an annoyed look at her outburst. He did notice that now she crashed the door only in case of emergencies. Still, he would appreciate if she didn’t break in at all. “Well, good for you… If I remember right, you haven’t seen them in a while.”
“We need a plan,” she began seriously, hopping up on his bed and turning to face him. “On how we act while they’re here.”
“Sure we’ll get there,” he rubbed his temple, giving her a resigned look, ‘she just welcomed herself in…’ “Since you’re here… do you have a kimono to attend a formal event?”
“I do…” she said, pondering on where she put it. “Oh, right– they’re back at home. Should I get them?”
“Just go buy a new one,” he stated. “You’ll need a few.”
“New ones just for one classy-traditional party? Feels like a waste,” she brushed him off. Money is a luxury she’s not wasting on articles of clothing she has.
“And it’s not a waste when you buy random things that you see,” he raised his eyebrows at her, judging her budgeting skills.
“They’re essential,” she objected.
“I had a feeling you’d say that…” he said, grabbing something from the nearby drawer. “So here,” he held out his credit card towards her.
…….....
Y/n stared at it…. Then slid off the bed, landing in front of him. “Why… are you holding your card?”
“Take it and buy the clothes,” he said, acting as if he occasionally handed his fake wife his credit card.
“You could’ve just bought one yourself.” She could not believe her eyes.
“I wasn’t sure which one you’d like. It’s better if you choose yourself,” he said casually.
This was suspicious. Too suspicious– “You’re not planning on holding it over me are you?”
“Why would I even do that?!” he exclaimed, losing his composure.
“Well, my father gave me his card once and used it to guilt-trip me that they provide for me, yet I don’t listen–”
“I would never!” he cut her off quickly. He was bothered by the fact that she had to go through that and that she could accuse him of that.
“You’re really giving this to me? For free??” Y/n said, cautiously eyeing the card. Nevertheless she took it.
“Yes, it’s for the arrangement after all, as we need to be maintaining an image. Use this however you please– without making me bankrupt,” he stated firmly, raising a finger.
Y/n held it up in the air, her eyes practically sparkling. “Never have I imagined something like this would fall into my hands…” she muttered. Beaming, she whipped her head towards Kaoru and blurted. “I love you!”
………
……..
Kaoru just sat there with a blank face, processing what she said…..
“What… you’re not planning on taking it back, are you?” she said, quickly hiding the card in her pocket at the complicated look on his face.
“Don’t just casually say such things,” he said, trying to fight the heat creeping across his face even though he knew she didn’t mean anything by it.
“Why not? I said it cuz I’m happy,” she said thinking nothing of it.
“Do you just randomly say that to other people?”
“Not any people. I’ve said it to Chihiro and Nanaka before and Koyomi. There’s nothing wrong with that,” she said, bringing out the card to admire it.
The realization of being sibling-zoned without even doing anything just came to Kaoru. He brushed the thought off, clearing his throat, “Anyway, make sure not to go and buy a whole library with this… or random trinkets.”
“What do you take me for?” She made a mock offended look. “As I was saying, we need an emergency plan.”
“What exactly is the emergency plan?”
“We need to—” she cleared her throat, “—figure out how to look like we share a room. Believably.”
“We did share a room at your parents,” he began. “I’m never sleeping in the same bed with you again.” He is not planning on subscribing himself as a free pillow.
“You don’t understand,” she stopped him. “It’s my cousin. She’d see right through our facade the moment she steps foot through the door.”
“We pretend harder?”
“We remove all evidence that we sleep in different rooms,” she slapped her palms together.
Step 1– Share a room.
Kaoru stood in Y/n’s doorway with his arms crossed, appraising the chaos that she calls her room.
Building models, drafting boards, empty instant ramen cups forming a shrine on her desk. And an A0 blueprint taped to the wall that literally said BEAM DESIGN TO CRUSH MY ENEMIES, which he’s going to pretend he didn’t see.
“Are you going to help me move my things?” she said, looking up at him. They planned to move her things to his room, the first step in making it appear to her cousin that they’re happily married. "Also… why do I have to shift? You could've moved in here." Y/n says.
“Your room's a garbage dump. How do you expect me to move in here?” he said, giving the pile of mess a look. “You’re not planning on taking all of these, are you?” Kaoru gestured at the books and papers.
“Didn’t we agree to move my things?”
“I meant your personal bedroom things—” he quickly added. “Not that… do not bring that mess of your academic things inside my room,” he pointed to her scattered books and papers.
“You should've clarified it,” she said, grabbing her pillow, blanket, and the cat from the table.
She was stopped by Kaoru at the door.
“What now?”
“Keep that here,” he pointed at the cat dangling underneath her arm.
“Louie can’t sleep alone,” she said, cradling her cat.
“He’s a cat–” he stated as if that explained everything.
“Yes,” she replied, nodding seriously. “A social creature.”
“He sleeps eighteen hours a day.”
“Lonely ones sleep more,” she shot back immediately.
Louie let out a small, pitiful meow, burying his face into her shoulder like a tragic orphan.
“See? He agrees,” she said, adjusting the blanket and the cat in her arms.
Kaoru stared at the cat. Then at her. Then up at the ceiling like his patience was evaporating.
“And you,” she countered, stepping out of the room anyway, “are supposed to be accommodating my emotional needs if you want to appear to be a doting husband.” She paused, then added sweetly, “That includes my cat.”
Louie stretched a paw outward, landing it on Kaoru’s sleeve. The cat kneaded once.
Y/n smiled triumphantly. “Look at that. He’s bonding.”
Kaoru let out a resigned sigh, knowing clearly well that the cat controls the household, but his owner is too blind to see. “He enters only when you go to sleep, and he stays in a corner.”
“Deal,” she said, skipping out with the cat and her things.
Step 2– small habits
They sat across from each other on the low table like diplomats preparing to sign a treaty.
“We need to make up small habits,” Y/n said as she skimmed through a book.
“Small habits?” Kaoru repeated. “Like how you leave your skateboard lying around and end up tripping on it—”
“That was one time!” she glared at him. “And no. If we’re going to be convincing, we need… habits.”
“You mean act like I do when we see your friends?”
“This will be different–” she began. “This is my cousin we’re talking about who’ll observe us in the close proximity of this house. Besides, they can’t keep a secret. The moment they get drunk, they’ll let everything out.”
“What do you suggest we do aside from hand holding and acting affectionately?”
“Okay, I’ve got resources,” she said, closing the book and putting it on the table. “Couples have… patterns.”
“Patterns,” he repeated.
“Yeah. Unspoken stuff,” she continued. “Like knowing each other’s routines. Finishing each other’s sentences. Complaining together.”
“Complaining I can do,” he said immediately.
“Unfortunately,” she muttered. “Also,” she went on, “inside jokes. Nothing obvious. Just… looks.”
“Looks,” he repeated, wary.
“You know,” she said, glancing at him sideways. “When someone says something ridiculous and you just look at your partner like, ‘can you believe this?’”
He considered this, then nodded once. “That’s effective...”
Then she went straight to the actual stuff. “Married couples should do things like spontaneous forehead kisses.”
“Spontaneous—” Kaoru was speechless.
“Scheduled forehead kisses then?” she tried again, realizing he was not going to agree.
“Why not we act like the couple who doesn’t show affection in the presence of a third party,” he suggested instead.
“Hmm, that works,” she said thoughtfully. “If no physical affection… then how about sharing desserts with one spoon?” she proposed.
“No–” he immediately shot her down.
“Feeding each other bites?”
“No. Where are you even getting these ideas?”
“This,” she held up the book.
“A romance novel??” He couldn’t believe this, but knowing her, this shouldn’t have come as a surprise.
“What’s with that look?”
“What on earth made you think you’d get decent ideas in there?” he said, rubbing his temple.
“Look Kaoru,” she set the novel aside. “Did you ever have a girlfriend?”
“I did.”
Y/n looked at him like this was news.
“What? I had a life when I was in college,” he explained seeing her stare.
“Okay…” she said. ‘Not that he had any business sharing this with me.’ “Did you ever live with said girlfriend who’s cousin will be coming to stay with you for a night?”
“No…”
“Then,” she reached for the novel and held it up. “I suggest we let the pros handle this.”
“I have a hard time finding faith in a book that tells us to share a spoon?” he glared at the novel.
“This is a popular novel. Ask Carla.”
He glared at her, ‘You can’t be serious.’
She stared back. ‘We don’t have a choice.’
“Does it suggest anything normal?” he finally said, with a reluctant sigh.
She hummed. “Here’s a subtle one. Brushing teeth together.”
“I am not engaging in synchronized dental hygiene.”
“But it’s domestic,” she argued. “Very convincing.”
“Next.” He dismissed that option.
“Leaving little notes for each other,” she said. “Like ‘Good luck today’ or ‘Don’t forget lunch.’”
He paused considering it. “That’s… acceptable.”
She smirked. “Writing that down. We leave notes purposefully that my cousin finds one.”
“Please don’t write anything that would traumatize them…”
She flipped the pages. “Oh. Apparently couples also steal each other’s clothes on purpose.”
“You stole my jacket last week,” he said pointedly.
“So let me—”
“You are wearing your own clothes when we greet your cousin–” he shot her down before she could finish that sentence. Her ideas were starting to drive him insane. “That’s enough,” he said finally.
“Enough of my expert research?”
“Yes,” he replied flatly. “If I hear one more suggestion involving desserts or dental activities, I will file for divorce.”
She laughed. “Okay, Mr. Practical. Enlighten me on what you think we should do.”
“We’ll keep it subtle. Things people don’t question.”
“Such as?” she prompted, leaning back on her hands.
“First,” he said, counting on his fingers, “we exist together.”
“Exist?” She mulled it over. Noted.”
“Second,” he continued, “Married couples adjust each other without asking. A crooked tie or a sleeve.”
Just like he had occasionally noticed others in business parties do.
He demonstrated by reaching out to fix her pendant that was facing the wrong way, his fingers brushing against her collarbone in the process. He froze when he realized he’d actually done it. “…Like that,” he said quickly, withdrawing his hand.
Y/n stared at him trying to figure out what just happened. “You just proved your own point–”
“Third,” he continued, ignoring that. “Casual physical contact. Passing touches. A hand at the back when navigating.”
“I feel like it would be a lot simpler to explain if we just forehead kissed each other and called it a day,” she said, dropping her forehead against the table.
He stared at her figure before finally calling out her name.
“Yeah?” She picked her head up to look at him.
He began after careful consideration. “Would you… feel comfortable kissing someone you’re not dating?”
She opened her mouth. Then closed it. Thought about it. Then dropped her forehead on the table with a loud thump, startling Kaoru.
She was silent for a few seconds, making him wonder if she had hurt her head.
“I don’t think so,” she finally said, suddenly feeling embarrassed that she even suggested that in the first place. She tried her best not to groan out in frustration, thinking of the time she impulsively kissed his cheek.
“So we stick to those,” he said. “Not whatever chaos you were proposing. We need something that shows we’re comfortable.”
“Yeah, makes sense,” she agreed.
Step 3 – Q/A
“My cousin is perceptive,” Y/n said solemnly. “We should anticipate questions.”
Kaoru nodded. “First, how we met.”
“Oh that’s easy—” she began.
“No illegal skating clubs,” he cut her off before she start.
“I wasn’t gonna!” she scowled at him. “But I do need to provide them with good tea.”
“We met through mutual acquaintances,” he stated. Just like they told everyone else.
She pouted. “That’s boring.”
“Boring is believable.”
“Okay...” she conceded. “Next question.”
“When did we start dating?” he said.
She leaned back, thinking. “Too long ago and it’s suspicious we hid it for this long. Too recent and it looks rushed.”
“Six months,” he decided. “Enough time to justify the situation.”
“Cool. We bonded over—”
“Shared interests,” he cut in.
“Skating??” she looked at him. She was sure he didn’t want his double life made public.
“Science,” he stated. “You study architectural engineering and I am an Ai calligrapher. We have common interests.”
She scribbled an imaginary note in the air. “Romantic.”
“Third,” he said, “who proposed first.”
She perked up. “Me.”
“No.”
“Why not? Technically I proposed the deal first.”
“Technically we’re faking this—” he gestured around. “And it would be inconsistent.”
“You proposed when my parents arranged my marriage to that bastard—” she proposed.
“That’s believable.”
“Next,” Y/n continued, “what we argue about.”
“Who would think to ask that?”
“It’s my cousin. It’s best to be prepared.”
“That cat,” he pointed to Louie who was lying on the floor beside the table with his limbs sprawled.
“Okay. And your work hours,” she added. She wanted to say his obsession with Carla but there was no way he’d agree.
“Acceptable,” he nodded.
Then Y/n smiled. “We’re so going to fool them, aren’t we?”
Kaoru smiled subtly. “Yes. As long as we remember our answers.”
Step 4 – Action
The front door swung open and Y/n’s cousin burst in. “Y/NNNNN!!” They tackled her in a hug and nearly knocked both of them backwards.
Kaoru stood there politely not knowing how to react to this. He had prepared for polite small talk, not WWE family reunion.
Y/n wheezed. “Hii— okay, I need my lungs, please.”
Her cousin released her only to scan Kaoru up and down. “So this is the husband,” they said.
Kaoru offered a respectful nod. “Yes. Sakurayashiki Kaoru. It’s a pleasure to meet—”
“Oh my god,” Cousin said, cutting him off. “She used to have posters of boys with your face shape all over her room in middle school. She literally has a type yet she insists she doesn't.”
Y/n on the other hand shut down, her soul leaving her body.
Kaoru turned slowly toward her. A very faint smirk tugged at his mouth. “…Is that so?” he asked in a suspiciously innocent tone.
Y/n shook her head fast. “No. No. Stop talking. Everyone stop talking.” He is definitely using that information later.
……..
They moved to the living room. Her cousin settled in comfortably, chatting animatedly. They asked the predictable questions so far.
Y/n and Kaoru sat side-by-side close enough to look natural.
Then her cousin leaned forward. “What’s the first thing you noticed about her?” they asked looking at Kaoru.
Kaoru calculated the answer. “Her laugh,” he said carefully.
Y/n looked between the two of them. ‘No… that’s too basic.’ She disapproved.
The cousin scoffed, “That’s all?”
Kaoru didn’t back down. He thought for a moment, looking back on her daily habits, patterns that are noticeable. Then he said it soft, offhandedly. “Her frown…. The little one she makes when she’s concentrating.”
This caught Y/n off guard. She stared at him waiting for him to explain further.
“You do this thing,” he continued, lifting one hand to shape the air, “where your eyebrows pull together in focus.” He spoke as if remembering a fond memory from the past. “I thought you’d get wrinkles with how hard you were frowning,” he finished with a smile directed at her that very much would have made him appear lovestruck if she didn’t know this was an act.
Kaoru, on the other hand, didn't know when he memorized that little gesture, a trait Y/n herself never noticed. He realized he’d spoken too much. “It’s… recognizable,” he finished, turning his gaze away.
Her cousin looked between them with a look— ‘ohhh I see how it is.’
“Does she still sleep talk?” her cousin said out of nowhere.
“Sleeptalk?” he looked intrigued.
“I do not—” Y/n cut through.
“She once accused a lamp of eating her homework in her sleep,” the cousin said. “Very seriously.”
Kaoru turned toward her. “You… argue with furniture in your sleep?”
“It had aggressive lighting in my dream,” Y/n muttered. “And I was sleep deprived.”
Her cousin wasn’t done. “She also used to get lost. Constantly. Once she circled the same café three times and convinced herself it was following her.”
Kaoru folded his arms, nodding thoughtfully. “That explains several things.”
She had expected her cousin to bring out stories from their childhood but not to this extent. Seems like she had underestimated them. “Okay! I’m going,” she announced, already getting up to leave.
Kaoru reacted before she could leave. His hand reached out and caught her wrist, gently tugging her back until she flopped beside him again. “You haven’t seen your cousin in a while. Stay.” He was enjoying the stories.
Her cousin’s smile widened. “Yea, we got a lot of catching up to do–”
Y/n shot Kaoru a look that screamed betrayal. “You’re supposed to defend me.”
“I am,” he said, then leaned in to whisper in her ear. “— I haven’t told them what you’ve been up to here, have I?”
She huffed, glaring at him.
Her cousin clasped her hands together. “Where was I… Oh– Did you know,” she began, “that Y/n once cried because her favorite mug broke?”
“It is a sentimental mug!” Y/n protested, trying to squirm away again–
Only for Kaoru to slide his hand around her waist, keeping her from escaping. His posture shifted subtly as he angled toward her. “I think I know that mug.”
“You do?” her cousin said.
“Is it a superglued cat mug?,” he continued. “She still uses it.”
Her cousin gasped. “He knows!”
“Stop exposing me,” Y/n groaned, voice muffled as she hid her face in Kaoru’s upper arm. Her fist thumped lightly against his side, more in protest than impact.
Kaoru barely reacted. If anything, his arm tightened around her waist as he tilted his head slightly toward her, the corner of his mouth lifting in amusement. “You punched me.”
Y/n finally peeked up, eyes narrowed as her cheeks heated up in embarrassment. “You deserved it.”
He considered that for a moment, then exhaled. “Very well. I apologize.”
She peeked up at him, surprised. “For what?”
“For finding it amusing,” he teased.
She groaned and pushed her face against his arm again.
Her cousin gasped theatrically. “Domestic violence already?”
“It was a love tap,” Y/n shot back trying to pull away again but his arm remained secure around her, not moving.
“She’s always been feisty,” her cousin said.
Kaoru glanced at Y/n and shot that pretty, fake smile. “I’ve noticed.”
Y/n groaned again and buried her face back into his arm. Kaoru adjusted without thinking, his chin dipping slightly toward her hair. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“I’m merely listening,” he replied, unbothered.
“Can we be done now,” she muttered. “Before she reveals my entire childhood?”
………..
“I swear,” Y/n muttered into the pillow, voice thick with exhaustion and wounded pride, “I’ll take revenge when they get married.”
She was sitting on the futon by his bed, plotting revenge.
“Plan it later. Keep him to your side,” Kaoru said flatly, pointing toward the cat.
“Kay,” Y/n replied, lifting the cat so it nestled against her chest. Y/n set the cat down carefully on the futon beside her. “He’s harmless. Mostly.”
Kaoru sat on the edge of his bed, eyeing the cat with suspicion. The feline yawned, stretched, and promptly sat down with the attitude of someone who owned the futon. “…It’s plotting,” Kaoru muttered.
Y/n chuckled, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “You worry too much.”
Louie looked at the bed.
“Do not come up here,” Kaoru told the cat and laid down, closing his eyes. "And do not bother me."
“Kaoruu,” she called out his name.
“What?” he said in a rough voice.
“Good night.”
“...good night,” he muttered.
When she woke up in the middle of the night responding to the calls of her empty stomach, the room was dimly lit by the faint moonlight coming through the curtains.
She slid out of the futon quietly and stepped around carefully to avoid her sleeping cat lying somewhere by her feet. Until her foot didn’t miss.
“Oh no—oh no—” she whispered desperately, lifting her foot instantly to relieve the pressure off the furball. But her balance betrayed her and she fell the other way…
Kaoru sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed like a disappointed parent. His hair was mussed from sleep, stray strands dangling over his forehead, which only made the anger look… cute. Not that she would ever say that out loud.
She sat on the futon in front of him, back straight, hands on her knees like she was awaiting execution while her cat sat like a loaf of bread beside her like he was waiting for food.
“What were you doing? Gymnastics in the middle of the night?” Kaoru said, voice dripping with disbelief.
“I was trying to go downstairs…” she muttered, looking away from him.
“And you tripped.”
“…Yes.”
Kaoru pinched the bridge of his nose. His peaceful sleep has been shattered, ribs nearly crushed by her. “Of all the things you could have fallen on, you fell on me?” He lay down a futon just so that she wouldn’t intrude on his space, yet she went and ended up crashing into him.
She pointed at the cat. “I couldn’t fall on him! He’d be squashed!”
“So…” he began slowly, “you thought it was a good idea to fall. On. Me.”
She looked him dead in the eyes. “Yes. I mean— I fell the other way and you happened to be there.”
Kaoru didn’t know what to say anymore when Y/n suddenly leaned forward, brows scrunched in concern. “Did I hurt you?”
“…What?”
“When I fell,” she clarified, slower this time with worry. “Did I hurt you anywhere? Your ribs? Your shoulder? Or—”
“No. Don’t—” he paused, seeing her flinch at his sudden loud voice. He cleared his throat. “Don’t worry about it,” he finished, softer this time. The irritation of being disturbed softened, unwillingly. “It’s fine. But you did hurt my sleep,” he added, sighing with full dramatic disappointment.
Y/n’s mouth fell open, offended. “I was trying to get a snack—”
“And instead I got body-slammed,” he muttered.
“You make it sound like I did it on purpose!”
Kaoru raised an eyebrow. “You did choose me over the cat.”
She gasped, pointing at the cat again who was now curled up. “I was protecting him!”
Kaoru just shook his head, but the irritation had nearly vanished —
“I’ll make you a sandwich as an apology for falling on you,” she said it like it was the most normal declaration in the world as she shuffled toward the door, blanket trailing like a cape.
Kaoru glanced at the clock. Then back at her. “…In the middle of the night?”
“That’s why it’s called a midnight snack,” she deadpanned, stopping at the door.
He opened his mouth to say something but she was already out. He exhaled. He had no choice but to follow her down anyway to supervise in case she trips down the stairs.
………
Y/n placed another slice of cheese.
"We're eating a whole meal in the middle of the night?” Kaoru said observing her. “That's not exactly healthy."
"You sound like Miya," she said, placing the bread on the plate. "Also, it's called a midnight snack."
"At least the kid knows what's good for him."
"I don't do this every night," she said, putting the fillings on the bread. "Just on the nights I can't sleep."
"Do you have difficulty sleeping?" he said, watching her as she got sauce on her fingers and then licked it clean.
"Only if I'm not sleeping on my bed," she answered, comparing the amount of mayonnaise she put on her sandwich.
"Did you not have difficulties when you first moved in here?" he said watching her take a spoonful of mayonnaise to spread on the other sandwich. "Wait— wait not that much," he grabbed the spoon from her hand.
"I did initially," she said, hopping up to sit on the counter. "But I got used to it."
"You could've come to me about it," he said, completing his sandwich with a lesser amount of fillings compared to hers.
Y/n, about to take a bite of her sandwich paused and stared at him.
"I mean— having difficulties sleeping can be troublesome," he explained quickly. "Carla has good suggestions on what to do while having sleeping troubles. It works well so..."
"I think a goodnight kiss would've made me sleep better," she smirked in a teasing tone.
"Stop making things up!" he said, turning away as the warmth rose on his face before he could stop it. Thank goddess the lighting was low.
She laughed, muffled by the sandwich in her mouth, clearly pleased with herself. “You’re very flusterable for someone who appears to be immune to nonsense,” she said. “It’s kind of endearing.”
“It is not,” Kaoru replied immediately. “And I am not flustered. You’re simply being… inappropriate.”
“Inappropriate?” She tilted her head, eyes glinting. “All I said was a goodnight kiss.”
“That is precisely the problem.”
“You worry about my sleep,” she said more gently now. “That’s kind of sweet, you know.”
“I worry about many things.”
“Like where to charge Carla.”
“Yes.”
“And mayonnaise abuse.”
“The amount of mayonnaise you put in yours is horrifying," he said, giving a side-eye to the sandwich on her hand.
“It tastes great–” she objected.
“…If you’re having trouble sleeping,” he said carefully, “you could wake me. Instead of sneaking off to build health hazardous sandwiches.”
“Oh?” she raised her eyebrows at him. He hates being disturbed in his sleep yet he’s telling her this.
“For practical reasons,” he added quickly. “Talking helps some people. Or tea. Or just not being alone.”
The teasing drained from her expression. She nodded. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
—
Y/n swung her legs lightly from where she sat on the countertop, happily eating her structurally unsound cheese and mayonnaise monument of a sandwich. A bit of cheese smeared onto her fingers.
She looked left. No napkins. She looked right. Kaoru— within arm’s reach.
Without hesitation— without a single thought firing, she reached out and wiped the cheese across the sleeve of Kaoru’s shirt.
Halfway through the motion, her brain rebooted. She froze. Her hand remained mid-swipe, palm still pressed to his arm.
Kaoru stared at her hand. Then, painfully, he slowly lifted his eyes to her face.
His expression passed through four exact stages:
Confusion —> Realization —> Disbelief —> Scowl
“…Did you…” Kaoru began very quietly, “just use my sleeve as a napkin?” He saved himself from being used as a pillow only to be treated as a napkin instead.
Y/n smiled weakly, retracting her hand. “…I did not think it would happen like this,” she said, trying to defend herself.
His eye twitched. “You—” he gestured at her, “—are a menace. A danger to society and fabric alike.”
“I didn’t see any tissue—!”
“There were paper towels,” Kaoru snapped, pointing to a roll sitting two feet away on the counter.
She followed the direction. The paper towels had been there the whole time. “…Oh.”
Kaoru’s eyes narrowed in slow, dawning vengeance.
Y/n saw the shift. “No. Don’t think about it—” she started, hands up.
Kaoru stepped forward, deliberate, predatory. “I’m absolutely thinking about it.”
“No— Kaoru. This dress is new and light in color. You know— light, soft, stains-forever.”
“You should have thought about that,” he said calmly, “before using me as your personal napkin.” His voice was far too composed for someone seconds away from comitting petty violence.
Y/n tried to hop off the counter, but Kaoru was fast. His hand slid around the back of her thigh just above the knee, pulling her forward before she could land and escape.
She gasped and scrambled, palms pushing at his shoulders.
The movement brought her closer instead— him leaning close, standing between her knees, her balance tethered to him whether she liked it or not.
“This is not a fair fight—!” she protested.
“Oh, I didn’t know we were fighting,” Kaoru said sweetly. “I thought we were… sharing napkins.”
“Stop. Stop right now—” she tried wriggling, leaning back, but he held her steady with enough pressure to keep her from moving back. Her heel kicked the cabinet uselessly.
“Kaoru, I swear if you wipe anything on me I will—”
“What?” he asked, leaning, face dangerously close to hers. “Use me as a napkin again? Or a towel this time?”
She tried for one last escape move by moving sideways— but he shifted, bracing one hand on the counter beside her hip, effectively caging her in place. He was still holding her thigh, just standing there, annoyingly close, with that annoyingly smug face, while she sat helplessly, half-laughing, half-terrified for her dress.
“Kaoru,” she whispered, her eyes pleading, “please don’t ruin my dress.”
He looked at her for a moment, expression softening. “…Fine. But if you ever wipe mayonnaise— or anything on me again, I will use your favorite pillow as a doormat.”
“That’s injustice.”
“That’s fair.”
She pushed at his face with her palm, glaring, “It’s not.”
She could feel the corners of his mouth tugging upward against her palm. He chuckled, gripping her wrist gently and moving her hand out of his face. “I never thought someone would use me as a pillow…” he dipped his head low, “...and now as a napkin.”
They didn't realize the position they were in until they noticed a figure in the doorway staring at the very clear position of—
Y/n sitting on the counter. Kaoru standing between her knees. One of his hands braced beside her hip. One of her hands was close to his lips. His face way too close to hers.
Kaoru straightened fast. He stepped back and pretended to adjust his glasses, only to realize he wasn’t wearing any...
Y/n very, very awkwardly placed her hands in her lap, fixing her dress that had hiked up when she flailed to get away from him...
Her cousin stood there. Holding a glass. Dead still. “…I was… just getting water,” her cousin said slowly, breaking the silence. Then looked between them.
“I—uh— we were getting— midnight snacks,” Y/n explained.
Her cousin raised a brow, then smirked. Evily. “Ohhh, I see…” they said slowly, leaning against the doorframe like they were watching drama unfold. “So who was snacking on who?”
“COUSIN!” Y/n squeaked, voice shooting up an octave.
Her cousin continued, unfazed, “Look, I’m not judging— good for you for finally getting some—”
“WE WERE LITERALLY JUST TALKING AND MAKING SANDWICHES,” Y/n cried, hands flailing as she jumped off the counter.
Kaoru attempted to speak, “What she said.”
Her cousin pointed at Y/n, at Kaoru, at the counter, at the space between them. “That’s not making sandwiches.”
Her cousin sighed and started walking away, but paused at the doorway. “Oh, and I don’t know how thin the walls are here, so if you're planning to… bang—”
Y/n closed the distance between her and her cousin. “Just. Go. Back to bed—” she said, grabbing her cousin by the shoulder.
“Maybe try to keep it down while I’m here,” her cousin finished and winked and disappeared down the hallway.
………
…………
The silence that followed was thick.....
“…We are never speaking of this,” Kaoru said finally, breaking the silence. But he couldn’t get rid of the memory of her thighs around him, her hands on his chest, the way she was so close—
“Agreed,” she said, not looking at him because if she did, she was going to combust.
But both of them were very aware of where they had just been touching.
Y/n was getting ready to leave to take Chihiro and Nanaka shopping, in other words babysit them and get them off Reki’s mom’s back.
She rummaged through the laundry looking for her jacket. “Where did I put it?”
A moment later, she pulled something out—
“Louie?! What are you doing in here? Again–” she reprimanded, holding him up. The cat just gave her a side eye like she bothered his nap. “Kaoru’s definitely going to complain about you shedding fur,” she said, setting him down. She crouched down, covered his ears, and whispered, “Don’t listen to him.”
The cat shook his head, yawned, stretched and went away— possibly to find somewhere else to sleep.
She began digging through the basket again, spilling the contents. “Is it in the living room?” she said, haphazardly stuffing them back into the basket and leaving for the next destination.
She did find a jacket in the living room. But it was not hers. “When did he leave such a nice jacket lying around?”
She looked around. Then proceeded to put the jack back to its own spot. But stopped to mull over an intrusive thought. “I’m getting late though…”
……....
.....
Y/n stared at her reflection in the hallway mirror, Kaoru’s jacket hung loosely off her shoulders. It was big for her, the sleeves reached her fingers, but the warmth was comforting. “So this is what a guy's jacket feels like…” She turned around, admiring the way it enveloped her body.
She pulled it closer and muttered, “What am I doing? I’m not even desperate…” ‘This isn’t mine. Not the jacket. Not this strange, growing feeling of comfort in this jacket.’ Although the jacket was pretty neat she had to admit.
“Why are you wearing my jacket?” Kaoru’s voice came from behind her just as she was about to take it off.
Y/n froze. She didn't notice him coming. She whipped around, eyes wide, caught red-handed.
His tone didn’t sound accusing but the look he gave her definitely indicated he was trying to interrogate her soul. He was standing there with his arms crossed, sleeves of his sweatshirt rolled up to his elbows, waiting for an explanation.
“I’m… I’m taking this—” she blurted the most pathetic excuse her brain could conjure.
Kaoru narrowed his eyes, moving to close the distance between them. “Go wear your own,” he said, stopping right in front of her. “Last time I checked, the laundry was swimming in your jackets."
She should explain herself. But what would she even say? She still hasn’t recovered from the time she pecked him less than a week ago. There is no explanation to justify her actions. She could say she wanted to see how it looked on her… Panicked, she did the only thing her mind could come up with....
She bolted.
“Huh—what?”
She ran past him, out the door.
Kaoru stood there trying to make sense of what just happened. He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “…She really ran off in my jacket,” he muttered. “Carla, remind me to check the laundry for missing clothes. Apparently, my wardrobe is in danger.”
—
At the mall, Y/n walked between Chihiro and Nanaka, each clutching one of her hands.
“Okay, mission of the day,” Y/n declared. “Find the two of the coolest clothes.”
“No, the cool one! With the muscles and tattoos,” she stated as if it were a normal choice of fashion.
By coincidences and unforeseen circumstances, the twins once ended up seeing Joe in his S attire. And that’s when Nanaka fell in love— not with Joe, his fashion choice. Of all the diverse styles out there, she just had to idolize Joe’s. The twins did not know about S and so the only explanation Reki could give them was that Kojiro was cosplaying.
“Why not dress like Reki?” Y/n suggested. She can not let Kojiro corrupt an innocent soul’s fashion choice.
“He’s too plain,” Nanaka noted. “Reki–nii also doesn’t have muscles. We want muscles.” Chihiro nodded along. Kids can be brutally honest sometimes. Y/n did not have the courage to hear their opinions on her wardrobe.
“Make your own muscles when you grow up…” There was nothing she could do if the twins were interested in muscles. Nevertheless, she tried again, “How about dressing like Kaoru? He wears pink.”
“We can’t dress like him–” Chihiro quickly said.
“Why not?” Y/n braced herself for another critical opinion— hell she was looking forward to it. But it wasn’t an evaluation at all.
“Koyomi-nee says that’s what you should be doing cuz he’s your baby daddy,” Nanaka explained casually as if that's something a kid as small as she should know.
Y/n stopped walking. “B-baby?! She—what the f… what did she even tell you two?” She crouched in front of them.
“She also said that Kaoru-san’s the type to cuddle affection to you in secret,” Nanaka said.
“Away from people,” Chihiro added.
Y/n groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “I’m going to throttle Koyomi when I see her next time.”
………
They decide to go to the arcade first.
Y/n pulled out her phone. Reiki and Langa had a school trip so she texted Miya:
Arcade. If you’re free, come win stuff for the twins. I’ll give you food😏
Miya texted back:
What makes you think I’ll get tempted by free food like Langa?
Nevertheless, he arrived ten minutes later.
“You sure got here fast,” Y/n said.
Miya crossed his arms, trying to play it cool. “Don’t misunderstand. I just happened to be passing by. And I had nothing to do at this moment.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, very obviously not believing him.
The twins clung to Y/n’s arms as they stepped into the arcade.
“Y/n-nee! Y/n-nee! Look, look! The racing game!” Chihiro tugged her left arm.
“No! The claw machine first!” Nanaka tugged her right.
“You’ll split me in half, you two—one at a time!”
……….
“I want the pink bear! The sparkly one!” Chihiro said, grabbing onto Miya.
“I want the dragon!” Nanaka said, climbing onto him.
“This one? It’s a piece of cake getting this one,” he said with an air of confidence.
Y/n whispered behind them, “Watch him fail.”
Miya grabbed the joystick harshly, “I heard that—”
The claw lowered… caught the plush— And dropped it halfway.
The twins gasped. Y/n tried not to laugh. And failed.
Miya’s eyebrow twitched. “Don’t laugh. You’re the one who jinxed it.”
“Or,” Y/n said with a smug grin, “you’re rusty.”
“Excuse me? Who was the one who called me begging for help.”
“Texted–” Y/n stated.
Miya shoved another coin, his pride on the line. “Same thing.”
The claw lowered again. This time he was successful. The plush dropped into the prize box. The twins squealed and hugged him.
“Yeah! Who’s rusty now?!” he smirked.
………..
They went to the ball pit next. It was a sea of neon colors. The twins were already diving into it.
Y/n rolled the sleeves of her (Kaoru’s) jacket up, knee-deep in plastic balls as she scavenged for the twins. “Where’d you go—oh—got you!” She fished Nanaka up from beneath the surface.
Miya stood at the edge of the pit with a judgemental scowl. “You expect me to skip around like a literal child here?” he scoffed, chin tilted up like he was above this.
Y/n deadpanned, Nanaka still tucked under her arm. “Skip? Miya, I’m literally wading.”
Chihiro popped up from under the balls beside her. “Miya-nii! Come in!”
He looked horrified. “I won’t jump into a pit of plastic spheres.”
“No, but wouldn’t hurt to try,” Y/n said.
“This is for children!” Miya snapped, as if he was embarrassed seeing an adult roll around in a pit of balls.
“You are a kid so–”
“I’ll have you know I’m extremely—” Miya didn’t even finish his sentence when a random kid bumped into him, making him fall into the pit.
He burst upward like the undead rising, eyes glowing with vengeance.
The random kid peeked over the edge, unfazed he pushed an adult–child in. “Sorry, mister!”
Y/n snickered. “Good to see you at eye level with your real age.”
“…I hate you,” he muttered, turning to walk towards the edge.
That’s when Nanaka chucked a ball at Miya.
“I’m not playing,” he declared.
Y/n flicked a ball at him. It hit the back of his head with a bonk.
That was it. “You wanna fight then fight me like a man!” he said as he dragged himself to the center of the pit.
Y/n grinned. “The twins will see to that.”
The twins jumped on him, burying him under the balls.
The four of them sat on a bench near the plaza, shopping bags piled at their feet, each armed with ice cream.
“I can’t believe all the ugly clothes you tried to make me wear back in there. How do you even find them?” Miya said, horrified, thinking back on the rainbow colored dog eared hoodie she held out. Even more horrified it had dog ears.
“It works with Langa. He wears whatever I pull out,” Y/n chuckled thinking of the time she made Langa try on Lolita clothes and he agreed without hesitation. He almost considered buying them until she and Reki stopped him.
“And that’s why it’s better if his mom buys his clothes,” Miya muttered.
“Can we go skate at the park?” the twins said, finishing their ice cream.
Y/n almost wiped her hands on the jacket. But stopped herself, recalling that it was stolen borrowed property. “Sure, we can go to the park. But no crazy stunts, okay?”
Chihiro nodded, while Nanaka bounced excitedly. “Yay! Let’s go!”
They went home, dropped the bags and grabbed their skateboards.
............
"It feels like I’m babysitting," Miya said, watching the twins jump around.
“Technically, you are a kid,” Y/n said, as they stepped into the park. “So I’m the one who has to take care of an extra kid.”
“I’m not a kid!” Miya protested, glaring at her.
“Uh-huh… how so?” Y/n, shooting him a playful look.
“I’m 14! And I can fluently insult people who get on my nerves,” he stated proudly.
“That just proves you’re a rude kid,” Y/n pointed out.
“You’ve been messing with me on purpose the whole day,” he said.
“I’m not, kid,” Y/n said, trying to ruffle his hair.
“Get away– I’ll bite you!” he swatted her hands away.
One thing led to another and now Y/n and Miya crouched on their boards, at the top of a slope each teaming up with a twin— Y/n with Chihiro and Miya with Nanaka. The makeshift finish line was marked by a bright orange cone at the bottom.
“First one down wins!” Y/n called. ”Ready? Chihiro?”
Chihiro nodded, standing on her board.
“I hope you’re ready to eat my dust,” Miya said, smirking at Nanaka.
“Yes! Eat dust!” Nanaka said excitedly.
“Bring it on!” Y/n shot back. “Don’t forget, bragging rights are on the line.”
They pushed, wheels rolled smoothly over the concrete. They had to go slow instead of pro mode to match the twins pace. Nanaka was doing well for her first time down a slope.
Suddenly, Y/n looked around, grabbed Nanaka, and pulled her into her arms as she stopped. “Hold on– where’s Chihiro??”
She just realized one twin was missing–
Miya paused too, about to throw in a sarcastic remark for stopping the race halfway but stopped when he looked around. “You lost her??”
“I don’t know how I just lost her like that!!” she said, putting a flailing Nanaka down.
Then they looked up the slope.
There she was, Chihiro still standing on her board. Turns out she didn’t move from that spot at all.
“You know if I were a kid, you probably would’ve lost me in an empty place like this too,” Miya pointed out. “And I’d probably get kidnapped by a nice-looking stranger who gave me chocolate by the time you realise I'm gone.”
“You’d be the kid who’d run away on purpose just to bite nice-looking people,” she retorted.
.........
......
“The hill is too high…” Chihiro mumbled when they got to her.
They had to put a hold on bragging rights and the race.
The time came to leave the park.
“Okay, not a single scrape? I’d call that a win,” Y/n stated proudly. “And no– I didn’t lose anyone,” she added, seeing Miya open his mouth, obviously to comment on the previous incident.
“But I couldn’t go down…” Chihiro said dejectedly, clutching her skateboard.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Y/n said, crouching down to her level.
Chihiro buried her face into Y/n’s shoulder. “We couldn’t finish the race because of me…” Chihiro said, her voice muffled against her shoulder.
“No, sweetie,” Y/n murmured, wrapping her arms around her and rocking her gently. “Slopes can be scary, but that’s okay. You don’t have to do it if you’re not ready. You’re brave just for trying, you know that?”
Chihiro peeked out from Y/n’s arms, eyes hopeful. “Really?”
“Really,” Y/n said, giving her a little squeeze. “And if you ever want to try again sometime, I’ll be happy to skate with you again.”
Her frown softened as she held out a pinky. “Promise?”
“Promise,” Y/n said, wrapping her own pinkie around hers.
…….
They started for home. Y/n carried both twins who nestled into her arms, breathing softly as they drifted into sleep. It had been a long day after all. The twins were getting heavier, she noted. But not impossible to carry.
Miya walked beside her, carrying all of their skateboards. “You sure you can carry them both to the house?” he asked skeptically.
“I’m the only responsible adult here,” she said, adjusting her grip. “Of course I can!”
“Your left arm is shaking,” Miya pointed out flatly.
“Why don’t you carry one of them?” she said firmly, shifting Chihiro higher.
“They like you more–” He was okay with carrying luggage.
She can carry them, although it might give her a muscle pull but Miya doesn't need to know that.
They had just turned the corner when a familiar figure came into view-
Kaoru.
“What are you doing here? I'm starting to think you stalk Y/n,” Miya said.
“I went to see Joe. Besides, I see no point in stalking her. I see her at home every day,” Kaoru responded with a frown as if they greeted each other like a normal married couple under the same roof.
“It’s no fun messing with you,” Miya muttered.
Y/n’s brain, on the other hand, snagged on the word home.
“...Y/n?”
She snapped out of it hearing Kaoru call her name. “What?”
“Aren’t they heavy?” Kaoru said, staring at the twins in her arms.
“Don’t worry, I can carry them,” she said, moving forward. "Not heavy at all."
“Watch closely you’ll see her arms shaking,” Miya leaned towards Kaoru and whispered.
“Are you coming or not?” she paused and called behind her.
Kaoru looked at Y/n with an unreadable expression on his face.
“W-what?” Y/n said as he stepped toward her.
“I’ll carry one of the twins,” he explained, reaching out.
"Oh I'm fine..." Y/n began, but Kaoru already securely took Chihiro in his arms, who slept like a log amidst the transfer.
“We’ll move quicker this way,” he said, looking at her with a subtle smile then moved forward.
Miya and Y/n stared at the soft and unguarded scene unfold in front of them. Then they glanced at each other, the question evident— ‘he knows how to carry a kid??’ Miya opened his mouth to comment on it. Y/n frowned with a look that clearly said, ‘don’t ruin this.’
‘Are we gonna pretend it’s normal?’ Miya communicated with a look.
‘What do you rather we do?’ she shrugged, adjusting Nanaka.
‘Take a picture!’ he motioned but he struggled to get his phone out of his pocket secretly with everything he was carrying. “Damn it–” he groaned.
“Are you two planning on standing there all day?” Kaoru called them. “We have to get the twins home.”
...........
“What do you think of kids?” Y/n said, skating around him as they walked after dropping the twins off. She did ask Miya if he needed to be carried home only to get flipped off by him.
“They’re annoying,” he said without skipping a beat.
“Of course, the ones we know are but that’s not what I meant,” she stopped and picked her skateboard up to walk alongside him. “I meant literal children. You were very natural back there. Holding Chihiro like that. Never imagined you got a secret soft side.”
“I’m capable of basic competence," He glared at her. "Where’s this coming from?”
“That day when my aunt asked about kids,” she said, cringing at the thought. “I was wondering what you would like your kid to look like? Hypothetically."
"I do hope the kid doesn't have your sense of awareness. They'll barely survive," he said unexpectedly.
"I'll let you know I lived up to 21 just fine. Jokes aside, how would you like your kid to look? Maybe they have your hair, or your eyes. They'll look cute with pink hair. Not your eyes though. Your eye color gives a serious and sly vibe," she said.
"You're right... " he hummed after thinking for a while. Y/n did not expect him to agree so readily without a remark. “If they had your eyes, I suppose that wouldn’t be bad,” he said offhandedly.
Y/n almost tripped over nothing. This topic was going in a way more personal direction. When she meant kid, she didn't literally mean it with her. “... hold on—,” she began slowly. “M–my eyes?”
Kaoru didn’t seem fazed at all. “Yes. They’re… expressive. Warm. A kid with those eyes would look kind.”
Y/n’s face went hot. ‘Warm? Kind?’ What was he even saying right now? Who the hell is this? Kaoru’s secret twin? Nevertheless, she composed herself and said, “Did you just accidentally confess to wanting children with me?”
He stopped walking to process what she said. “I—” he scrambled. “I did not confess. You said hypothetically. In a general sense eye shape is… it's just a trait.”
Y/n stopped too and smirked at him. “You really think my eyes are nice? I’m flattered.”
“Just… keep walking,” he said, speeding forward, leaving her behind. He was so done with her nonsense. Although he shouldn't have answered without thinking.
“You didn’t answer my question!” she trailed after him. “Come on Kaoru~ you could’ve just said I have pretty eyes.”
That day, little did she know she’d be regretting teasing him like that.
_
A random girl, whose name she learned was Ema, appeared in front of Y/n as she was minding her own business in college. Judging by the look on her face, Ema clearly planned this ambush with purpose.
“I would like to ask you a personal question,” Ema stated, sitting beside Y/n on a bench in campus.
“...a personal question?” Y/n repeated, before sipping her coffee that Ema got her from the vending machine. Ema treating her to a drink was partly the reason she decided to hear her out.
“But I swear it’s because I want to know about you. So it’s a genuine question,” Ema said earnestly.
“Okay…”
Ema went straight to the point and said with utmost sincerity, "Do you and Cherry-sama have a secret love child?"
Y/n nearly spat her drink. “I’m sorry, WHAT?!” she coughed, grabbing the tissue Ema handed her.
“A secret love child,” Ema repeated after Y/n calmed down. “There were two, actually. I saw you with Cherry-sama the other day. And Miya too.”
“You know you could’ve just told me you go to S first instead of dropping a bomb like this out of nowhere,” she said, giving Ema a side eye after she recovered from her initial shock.
“Oh… sorry. I got too excited,” she said apologetically. “As I was saying— do you and Ch–”
“Okay, okay. I get it,” Y/n couldn't hear her say the word secret love child another time. “You think you saw me with Cherry and Miya?”
“I didn’t think so at first. It looked too good to be true. But when I looked closer, I could tell it was definitely Cherry-sama and Miya,” she stated firmly.
There’s no point in denying at this point. “Yes, that was Cherry and Miya.”
“Do you have two kids together?” Ema said again as if she were catching up with an old friend.
“No! How did you even get this idea??” Y/n exclaimed, utterly dumbfounded.
“I saw you two carrying two kids that day on my way to the skate park,” she recalled.
“Two kids…?” she muttered. ‘skatepark?’ It rang a bell– “Chihiro and Nanaka?!” Y/n was kind of offended that Ema thought she was old enough to mother kids as big as the twins.
Ema nodded earnestly. “They were adorable, by the way. I didn’t even know Cherry-sama was capable of being that gentle. At S you usually see him fight with Joe or like…” She mimed Kaoru’s usual expression.
Y/n had to admit she did a great job at it. Before that, she has to clear this… misunderstanding. “They’re Reki’s twin sisters. Not mine. Definitely not ours.”
Ema’s eyes widened as she nodded in understanding. “Ohhhh. That makes sense! I was wondering how you managed to keep that kind of scandal under wraps.”
“Scandal—?!” Y/n’s voice went up an octave. “We didn’t even—! Why would you think—”
Ema leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Because he carried your kid— one of the kids gently,” she corrected seeing Y/n scowl at her. “The energy was… domestic.”
Y/n groaned, burying her face in her hands. “It was not. The twins fell asleep, so he was helping me carry them home ‘back to their mother’.”
“No secret children then?” Ema said in clarification.
“No secret children,” she stated firmly. “No secret anything. Just a lot of misunderstandings.”
"I see…” Just as she relaxed, Ema said with genuine curiosity, “But why did you kiss Cherry-sama at the campus?"
Y/n stared at her with a stoic look. ‘Of course she had to see that..’
“Was it a S challenge?” Ema began. “But I didn’t hear of a beef between you and Cherry.”
"We're married," Y/n finally said after much consideration. This is the only answer to all of Ema's questions.
Ema took a moment to process that information. Then tilted her face in disbelief. “...Married?”
Y/n nodded, trying to act casual under the weight of Ema’s stare. “Yep. Married.”
Ema blinked. Then she very slowly turned her whole body towards Y/n and pulled her legs up the bench, as if afraid any sudden movement would cause Y/n to take it back. “Are you saying this because you lost a beef?”
‘Did learning that Kaoru’s married break her?’ Y/n shook her head, “No. We’re married. Legally. On paper.”
“To Cherry-sama? Cherry-sama with a talking skateboard and who tussles with Joe?” Ema said.
“The same one,” she nodded and held up her left hand wiggling her fingers to show off the ring as evidence. “See?” She was so glad she decided to wear the ring today.
Ema’s mouth fell open. “That’s actually a wedding ring? I thought it was fashion!”
Y/n let out a nervous laugh. “Well, it does match my outfits now that you mention it…”
“No, wait—” Ema’s expression went through at least five stages of disbelief before landing somewhere between awe and existential crisis.. “You’re actually serious?”
Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Why would I joke about something like this?”
“Because…” Ema began carefully. “That’s what Cherry-sama’s fangirls dream of… No. Wait. I take it back,” she said, shuddering under Y/n’s glare. “You’re not crazy like them. I believe you.”
“Thank you–” Y/n replied flatly.
Despite the shock, Ema quickly accepted this fact. “What do you call him at home?” she said out of nowhere.
Y/n mulled at the answer. ‘I can’t just tell her I call him by his name but which one should I say? Baby? Darling? Honey?? Does it sound basic?! Ughhh I should’ve prepared an emergency nickname!’ She wrecked her head out.
“Forget I asked that–” Ema interrupted. “Your face tells me you’re starting to get mad at me.”
She’s not entirely off the point…
Ema instead said, “When I saw you kiss him in public, I really thought it was because of a beef or something!”
Y/n coughed, waving her hands. “Okay, can we not say that so loud? It wasn’t a stunt, it was—” she stopped herself before blurting out ‘a moment fueled by adrenaline and spite’ “—a complicated situation. And I just pecked his cheek.”
“Do you peck his lips instead of his cheeks in the secrecy of your home?” Ema probed.
“I do not!” she yelled out. 'First Koyomi and now her!' But then again, real couples were supposed to do that. “I mean— I… we…” Y/n didn’t even know what to say. She was supposed to lie that she did, but it felt so wrong.
“Forbidden marriage, I see…” Ema muttered to herself.
Y/n didn’t have the energy to correct her anymore. ‘As long as she doesn’t think we got secret children…’ “So… what are you planning to do with this information?” Y/n said, leaning against the bench crossing one leg over the other.
“Huh?” Ema said, startled.
Y/n tilted her head, her tone deceptively casual. “You went out of your way to see me, drop the word ‘love child,’ and now you know I’m married to Cherry. I feel like you’ve got a follow-up move planned.”
Ema’s eyes widened, hands flailing in panic. “Wha—no! No, no, no! I’m not going to do anything, I swear!”
Y/n rested her chin in her palm, narrowing her eyes playfully. “You sure? Because I’m already brainstorming ways to make you forget this conversation. Memory-erasing drink… hypnosis… or maybe a bribe.”
“I promise! I won’t tell anyone!” Ema said, waving both hands in front of her face. “Cross my heart, break my skateboard, lose my money!”
Y/n pretended to consider it. “Alright… I’ll trust you. For now.”
Ema let out a shaky sigh of relief. “You’re terrifying, you know that? That only adds to your allure.” Ema slumped back and muttered under her breath, “No wonder Cherry-sama looked smitten…”
“What was that?”
“Nothing!” Ema squeaked, sitting up straight again. "Don't worry! I really won't tell anyone!" Ema repeated before Y/n could come up with other threats.
Y/n hummed cautiously.
"I really won't. I wouldn't want to cause harm to my idol," Ema said.
"Right, Kaouru's fangirls got these rules they swear by..." Y/n muttered.
"Cherry-sama's fangirls? They often scare me sometimes. I was so worried when they cornered you that day,” Ema said, shivering thinking of it.
“Aren’t you one of them? And wait— how did you know they cornered me?” Y/n peered at Ema suspiciously. “Were you stalking me?”
“I don’t hang with that crowd. And no. No, I was not stalking you,” Ema said defensively. “I’m just a normal fan.”
Seeing Y/n’s blank expression made her realize she shouldn’t have emphasized on the last sentence. She tried again, “I really wasn’t stalking you. I just happened to see it. You handled it pretty well I have to admit.”
Y/n only raised her eyebrows at this, “...okay.”
Ema realized evading the question only made it more suspicious. “Cherry-sama's cool but... actually... I like you!" Ema blurted out.
Y/n stared at her with confusion trying to interpret the meaning behind what she said. ‘Is this supposed to be a confession??’
Ema seemed to realize what she said sounded weird. "I'm not trying to steal you away from Cherry-sama,” she clarified. “I've always been your fan, the moment I saw you skate."
“You’re… my fan?” she said half in disbelief .
Ema nodded with sincerity. “Yes! The first time I saw you skate for animal welfare I thought you were so cool! The way you handled the turns, and that trick at the finish line—!”
“No one would remember that–” Y/n quickly cut her off. “It’s not like I skate gracefully or—”
Ema shook her head. “You’re skating is real. You’ve got guts and heart! You only compete in beefs when you want to without caring for what others think. That’s why I wanted to meet you! But I never got the chance before.”
“...So, to be clear—” Y/n held up a finger. “You didn’t track me down to gossip about Cherry or start some fan war?”
Ema huffed, “Of course not! I just wanted to meet you! Well… and maybe ask you for some tips.”
Y/n was completely thrown off. She was used to people approaching her to challenge her to a beef. Not this. “Wow,” she said at last, leaning back comfortably. “This… actually kind of feels nice. Terrifying, but nice.”
Ema grinned ear to ear. “Just accept that you have fans too.”
Y/n looked at her skeptically. “Just to clarify—you’re not planning to start a fan club or anything, right?”
Ema gasped, eyes shining. “That’s an amazing idea!”
“Don’t,” Y/n warned, holding up a finger.
Ema deflated immediately, muttering under her breath, “But I already have a club name ready…”
“Just do whatever you will without creating a club out of this.”
“Does that mean I can come to you to talk about skating? My friends don’t skate and I could really use some tips,” Ema said with a hopeful tone.
‘Is this how Reki felt when he met Langa at class one random Tuesday?’ Y/n thought. Rika, Aoi or no one from her class skated. “Yeah, sure.”
“Perfect!” Ema grabbed her hand. “I’m going to get your lifes story out of you!”
Y/n retracted her hand. “Is it too late to change my mind…”
…..
“So you see I got fans too,” she stated proudly.
“And that’s something to be proud of because?” Kaoru raised his eyebrows. She has interrupted his time with Carla just to inform him that she's found someone who shares the same interest as her??
“Rude. Don’t insult my fanclub like that,” she huffed.
Nevertheless, his demeanor softened as he sighed, "good for you..."
“Fat Louie? Where are you little gremlin?” Y/n tiptoed through the house looking for her cat. She needed pre-class-hour emotional support before leaving.
Her search led her in front of Kaoru’s room. Lately her cat has been sleeping in there often. The door was slightly ajar. He was supposed to head out early for the calligraphy workshop at her college. So she ignored the ‘knock even when the world’s ending’ rule and let herself in..
“Louie??”
And there he was—
Kaoru, standing in the middle of the room with a Kimono in hand, with nothing but a towel wrapped around him. The sight of him— lean muscles, pale skin, the curve of his collarbone catching the light— it was too much for her brain to take in on a supposedly lazy morning.
She froze.
He froze.
“Do you mind?!”
“I DIDN’T SEE ANYTHING!” Y/n yelped (a lie), slapping her hands over her eyes, turning around and running into the doorframe with a loud thunk.
“Why didn’t you knock?!” he scrambled to cover up.
“You weren’t supposed to be here!” she said finally running out.
“It’s literally my room!” he shouted. “Great…. She’s probably traumatized. I mean— I’m traumatized…”
Meanwhile…
“I just saw my fake husband half-naked.” Y/n muttered with her hands in her hair. She pressed her face into her pillow, muffling a scream. “Why did he have to look like that first thing in the morning?!”
All she could think about was that moment. “Ughhh, why was he wearing a towel? Why was he choosing clothes clothless!! Why did he have to have a toned chest–”
This was so dumb. He was her fake husband. This wasn’t supposed to mess with her head.
“And you–” she pointed at her cat who she dragged down from her shelf before throwing herself on the bed to roll around in an attempt to calm herself. “Why do you always have to chill inside his room?”
She paused and picked the cat up facing her. “Did you see him shirtless before….”
“No wait– don’t answer,” she dropped her face into his fur. “I’ve seen Reki and Langa shirtless before. Joe literally comes to S half shirtless! I’ve seen shirtless men on the beach before. Like hell– novels describe shirtless men with details,” She recited like a prayer against her cat, the feline long used to this treatment. “Think of those. Forget Kaoru. Forget his abs… Well he has nice abs tho– AAAGGHH Damn it!” she dropped her head into her pillow again.
Few hours later
At her college, they crossed paths.
Kaoru studied her cautiously. ‘Is it just me, or is she completely unaffected by what happened this morning?’ His mind had been replaying that moment too many times for his liking. The silence stretched uncomfortably. Finally, he began, “…About this morning.”
“What about it?” Y/n tilted her head innocently.
“You walked in on me,” Kaoru said flatly. “While I was changing.”
“Oh, that,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Don’t worry, it’s already deleted from my memory.”
“…Deleted?”
“Deleted,” she nodded.
He was planning on bringing up the fact she violated his privacy but something in his chest twisted at her nonchalance. ‘Deleted, huh? Guess that’s it then.’ He thought. He should get over it too.
She was absolutely lying. But Kaoru was unaware of what’s going on inside her head. ‘I am composed. I am cool. I am calm. I definitely did not see his hipbones.’
As she shifted, a stray lock of her hair fell over her cheek. Kaoru’s eyes lingered a moment. “You didn’t style your hair this morning, did you?”
“I left the house in a rush...” ‘For obvious reasons….’
“Mm,” he hummed, reaching into his sleeves and pulling out a hair tie. “Turn around.”
“What?”
“Your hair,” he said, gesturing toward her. “It’s falling all over your face. I’ll tie it for you.”
Her heart skipped. “You—you don’t have to—”
“Stop arguing. How will you get through class if it keeps blocking your view.”
“It’s fashion!” Having him in close proximity at this moment will not be good for her heart.
“It makes you look homeless.”
Y/n hesitated, cheeks heating, trying to come up with a retort. In the end she gave in under his stern look as she huffed and turned her back to him. She held her breath when his hand brushed her neck, gathering the strands gently.
Kaoru tied her hair into a bun. “…Better.”
Y/n touched her hair self-consciously. “You didn’t have to…”
“I wanted to,” Kaoru admitted before he could stop himself.
“Anyway,” Y/n cleared her throat in an attempt to clear the awkwardness, “you should really get a lock for your door if you’re going to flash people randomly.”
Kaoru was speechless. “…Flash people?”
Y/n grinned mischievously at his expression, pleased she’d managed to ruffle him. “I mean, I didn’t ask for a morning show, but hey, free ticket.”
That did it. He raised his hand and flicked her forehead.
“Ow!” Y/n winced, rubbing her forehead. “What was that for?”
“What nonsense are you spouting?” Kaoru said, trying his best not to let her get to his head. “You were the one who barged in without knocking.”
“Ohhh, so it’s my fault you decided to be half-naked at 8 a.m,” she teased, her smile widening as she leaned forward into his space.
Kaoru’s composure slipped further. “You…” He clicked his tongue.
Y/n beamed, satisfied. “You’re embarrassed.”
“I’m not,” he stated. “Why would I be embarrassed?”
“You turned red,” Y/n pointed accusingly.
Kaoru turned his head away sharply. “You’re imagining things.”
“Well I have class. I’ll see you around...” Y/n said.
“Okay. I’ve got work to do...” Kaoru replied.
For a brief moment, neither moved. Then, with a small nod, she turned and walked away.
Kaoru watched her disappear into the crowd. ‘Why does she have to get under my skin like this?’
_________
Y/n walked into the classroom and plopped on a seat. ‘Why does he do that to me?’ she wondered.
“Oh, Y/n~” Rika and Aoi sang in unison and sat beside her.
“What?” Y/n said cautiously.
“We saw your hubby on campus!” Aoi said with a grin.
“Oh okay…” Y/n muttered. She didn’t like where this was heading.
“What’s with the indifferent act? Don’t tell me you’ve already kissed him goodbye!” Rika teased.
“No– I just ran into him…” Y/n said, looking away.
Aoi tilted her head, studying her. “Ahah—did he do your hair? It’s different from your usual hairstyle.”
Y/n felt her cheeks warming. ‘How does she even notice that?’ she thought. “It… it’s nothing.”
“Ugh, where do I order a hubby who does your hair?!” Rika lamented dramatically.
Y/n groaned, covering her face with her hands. ‘Please, let them not say anything more…’ she thought. “It’s not like that,”
“Not like that?!” Rika said. “Y/n, come on! Only someone special would—”
“—do your hair so gently and passionately,” Aoi finished with a teasing grin.
Y/n peeked through her fingers. “You weren't even there. He… he’s just… considerate. Besides, it’s just hairstyle.”
Her friends exchanged glances. “Uh-huh, just considerate,” Rika began, voice dripping with mockery. “Okay let’s say anyone can do hairstyles. But–”
“But?” Y/n knew she was about to fall in a trap.
“How do you explain the date?!” Aoi finished. “He straight out of a romance novel wiped food off your face!”
She was starting to regret putting on a show that day and was internally cursing Kaoru for playing along with her unquestioningly. “It’s not a straight out romance novel scene! You have to wipe your lover's face and lick that off for it to tingle-” Y/n said. Afterall she’s got a PhD in that area.
But she should’ve been careful… If you say those things in front of ‘knowledgeable’ individuals like herself i.e Rika and Aoi, she’s only going to light a fire.
“Is that why you’re frustrated?” Rika said, grabbing her hand. “Don’t worry we’ll help-”
“NO!” Y/n did not want to hear her finish that sentence. “I’m leaving,” she tried getting up but was dragged back down.
“We’ll leave together after the lecture.”
Y/n sighed. “You’re both reading way too much into it. We’re fine just the way we are.”
Rika raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? ”
Aoi put a hand on her shoulder, ”Y/n, as one of us I’m sure you know you’re living an arranged marriage to slowly yet surely falling in love trope. He picks you up after class dinners like the man can’t breathe staying apart from you.”
‘That’s cuz you’re all supposed to think that!!’ She grimaced. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry that the fake marriage act was going well. Too well as a matter of fact.
Y/n didn’t divulge into the details of how they got married so Rika and Aoi assumed it was an arranged marriage and she couldn’t correct them either. If she mentioned to her friends that she found the fake love of her life on a random Tuesday out of nowhere they’d definitely be suspicious.
“This doesn’t work in real life.”
“No, Y/n. Do you not see the signs? You can’t just brush that off as nothing,” Rika interrupted.
Little did they know it was an act— ‘I mean, sure, it’s just a contract… but he keeps doing these things. And it’s feels natural. Why does it feel like it’s meant for me?’ But then again she tried pushing the thought aside. 'It is supposed to feel natural...'
Rika poked her. “Shh don’t lie to your heart. We know you like him more than you say you do.”
That’s the thing. Y/n only says that she likes him as part of the act. But Rika’s statement has her questioning herself. ‘Okay… maybe this is more complicated than I thought…’
___________
After class Y/n walked toward the campus gates. 'Should I wait for him? But wait… what time did he say he would be done?' she thought, checking her phone.
……….....
………..
“Well, well… if it isn’t Y/n Sakurayashiki,” someone spat.
Y/n turned around hearing the familiar yet unpleasant voice belonging to her 'ex-fiance'. He had the same smug face. Same face she’d punched once in high school.
The main purpose of the contract marriage was to avoid a life with this very same smug looking; punchable faced guy in front of her right now. Y/n knew she would be running into him at times as they're in the same college. However she wasn't prepared for the events that would follow afterwards. After all, he had a grudge against her…
‘I should’ve planned out a list of retorts to hurl at him about the nonsense he’s about to speak now,’ she lamented. “Ryunosuke,” she acknowledged evenly.
“Oh, come on. What’s with the salty tone? Don’t tell me you’re avoiding me?” he said, stepping closer. “I mean, we were supposed to get married, weren’t we?”
Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Avoiding you? No. I’ve been busy making better life choices.”
He flashed a tight smile. “I see you still have that sharp tongue.”
“And you still have that fragile ego,” she replied. “Some things truly never change.”
“You think I don’t know?” His voice sharpened as he stepped closer. “You only agreed to that… marriage to escape me. To make it look like you have some high-profile and perfect life. How pathetic.”
Y/n stared at him, her expression flattening. ‘I think breaking the engagement hurt his pride a lot more than I thought,’ she almost pitied him.
“I bet you’re regretting it. That lame husband of yours is not even worth your time.”
Y/n’s eyes narrowed as her face darkened. “You’re only saying that because you know you’re not half the man he is,” she said sharply.
The next second he lunged, grabbed her arm making her wince. “You’re going to regret talking to me like that,” he hissed.
‘Should I hit him with my bag? No— too soft…’ Her free hand clenched. ‘Maybe a kick? Yes, a good, hard kick in the…’
Just as she was about to put her thoughts to action, a shadow loomed over them. “What do you think you’re doing to my wife?” Kaoru’s icy voice cut through.
Ryunosuke’s grip loosened immediately, as if he’s an animal that sensed immediate danger.
Y/n exhaled in relief— and disappointment at not landing the kick—and stepped closer to Kaoru instinctively. Kaoru’s demeanor softened slightly as he took her hand in his, his thumb brushing over her knuckles gently with genuine concern. “Y/n… are you okay?”
Y/n nodded, “I’m fine.”
Ryunosuke scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Oh, please. Cut the act.” He looked Kaoru up and down. “You think you’re something? Y/n only married you because of the money. The image. The marriage is all fake. There’s nothing special about you, you're just a traditional fart.”
Kaoru’s expression shifted from his soft concern to a piercing glare that he directed at Ryunosuke. He’s mad. Not because he got insulted. He barely registered the pathetic attempts at insulting him. ‘How dare he grab her like that–’
Kaoru himself may be indifferent to the comments directed at him but Y/n on the other hand felt a vein pop in her forehead. ‘I really should’ve gotten the kick in– No– two kicks–’
“Feeling jealous, are we? That no one would ever choose to be with you willingly,” she began in an attempt to get back at him. Then with a sudden surge of certainty she turned and reached her hands out to cup Kaoru’s face. “Besides… how can you say what we have between us is fake?”
Before Kaoru could say anything, she pulled him in with a gentle force and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.
—
As soon as she reached home, she went to her room, wrapped herself under layers of blankets and lay curled on her bed as an alternative to digging herself under the ground.
Y/n realized the weight of her action a second too late. She doesn’t know what was worse— her behavior or Kaoru’s reaction.
The moment Y/n’s lips made contact, Kaoru’s entire being paused. He could feel the smoothness of her lip balm on his skin even after she pulled away. His glare was replaced with a shocked expression— though momentary— as he stared at her face while she cupped his, still holding on. The next moment, her eyes widened as she let go and although Kaoru masked his shock, the embarrassment crept in as he averted his gaze which did not go unnoticed by Y/n given their close proximity. He almost missed the lingering sensation of her cool fingers on his face. He couldn’t help but wonder if her hands were always this cold.
‘Oh my god. Why did he act embarrassingly cute– That was mortifyingly cute. Why do I think it’s cute! Act annoyed, that's normal! Say I was acting stupid! He should’ve scoffed and turned away, that would’ve been less awkward…’ she thought, tossing around as much as she could under the weight of the blankets.
Kaoru came by her door; peeked inside; wasn't even surprised to see the bundle of blankets. After standing by the door for a while he finally said, "How long are you planning on staying like that?"
"I'm never getting out," she mumbled from underneath. She died from embarrassment. Resurrected. And is dying at this moment. She could not bring herself to face him. Now. Or ever.
"...okay but at least change your clothes before you roll around. It's going to get wrinkled."
............
After a moment of no response, Y/n felt the bed dip as Kaoru sat down next to her.
After carefully thinking of what to say he finally began, "Do you want to talk about it?"
Y/n clutched the blanket around her tighter.
Kaoru sighed. They had to address the situation but he didn't want to force her to talk. As he was getting ready to get up Y/n finally spoke. "I'm sorry..."
He wasn't expecting an apology. "For what?" tone softer this time.
“For putting you on the spot earlier… in front of everyone. I ki– did that without thinking.” Y/n was busy cringing when she felt a light weight drop on her body, startling her.
"I'm glad that you're okay," Kaoru said, resting his forehead on her blanket covered body. He wanted to throw hands when he saw Y/n getting grabbed, her face contorted in pain. And now that she's here in the comfort of her room doing her thing, he was feeling relieved. “Just… don’t apologize for standing up for yourself. And you don’t have to get mad on my behalf.”
Kaoru felt her shift under the blanket and backed away.
"I couldn’t just let him sprout nonsense!” Y/n exclaimed, springing straight, the blanket falling off her. “What he said was not true. I didn’t choose you because of money. I—” she stopped. She couldn’t exactly say this was real. That she genuinely chose to spent rest of her life (a year or two) with him… Ryunosuke was right- this marriage was not real. But she had to correct that bastard. “I really didn’t consider money as a factor when I proposed the deal… I just needed someone to sway my parents…” she mumbled, rewrapping the blanket around her and looking away.
“That’s good to know…” he said, slightly leaning in and raising a hand slowly to brush the hair away from her face so he could see her better. “Your hair’s a mess. Should I fix it again?”
Y/n expected him to flick her forehead. She lowered her guard at the gentle touch. But with the way he looked at her, soft and gentle she desperately wished he did that instead. “...it’s fine. Leave it,” she said, praying that he couldn’t hear her thrumming heartbeat.
“Besides… even if you did, it’s okay. I don’t think I’d mind providing for you,” he said, lowering his hand to his lap. It shouldn’t matter to him why she chose him, after all it is a contract based on mutual benefit.
Trying not to read too much into his words Y/n looked anywhere but his eyes—the ceiling, the blanket, the cat’s tail sticking out at the foot of the bed. Anywhere. She cleared her throat, “I had that handled. If you hadn't shown up I would've kicked him this time."
…………
…………
Kaoru let out an exhale followed by a heartfelt laughter as he leaned backwards.
Y/n rarely ever heard him laugh like that. But there he was– adorned with a genuine laughter that lit his features up. She couldn’t help but stare in awe. She realized she was gawking, making her pull the blanket up to cover her cheeks so that he couldn’t see the hue of red across her face.
He met her eyes. Y/n was too awestruck at the sight that she forgot about turning away to hide. “Next time, aim to incapacitate him,” he began with a smile that reached his eyes. “Somewhere nonhospitalizing, but fatal to his ego. And what do you mean by this time?”
“What?”
“Did you face a situation before where you had to fight him?” Kaoru said with a worried tone.
“No. Don’t worry about it. It’s just…. Highschool drama,” she said, awkwardly laughing.
Kaoru realized he did not know anything about her highschool days. Y/n heard about his from Joe, who described Kaoru’s most embarrassing moments in great detail, much to his dismay. He couldn’t help but ask, “What was it about?”
Y/n was not looking forward to narrating the incident. But the way his expression shifted, it looked like he was unusually eager to hear about it. Thus, she gave in.
……...........
“So… you punched him because he kept asking you out?” Kaoru said. He was sitting crossed legged on her bed, leaning against the headrest.
“Yea. I told him ‘No’. But then he went around telling people that we were dating. So one rainy day he asks me if I wanted to share an umbrella and go to his house again– I’ve never been to his house what does he mean by again– so I trotted out in the rain and punched him with momentum–” Y/n chattered animatedly, the lump of blankets discarded beside her. “It sounded so satisfying. Though it did hurt my hand,” she said, holding her fist— the one Kaoru assumes she must’ve hit him with. “That’s why I wanted to go for a kick this time…”
“Did you not get into trouble for punching him in front of a crowd?”
“Not really. It must’ve hurt him both physically and mentally so he never spoke of it. But I could still feel the hatred in his bones.”
Kaoru gazed at her, memorizing every little expression she made— that frown of disappointment, that click of tongue in irritation, that smirk of satisfaction.
“I thought you’d call me a gangster for punching someone…. Kaoru??” she said, noticing his gaze on her.
“Oh I uh– he deserved that,” he said, turning away, setting his foot down on the floor. “...and tone down on the pda next time," he added, trying to disregard the fact that he was indeed staring.
Y/n felt the heat creep up her face as she processed what he said, giving her a reality check. She haphazardly looked around for her blanket, trying to untangle it to hide underneath. "Ughh– I thought we were having a heartfelt moment here."
"Well someone had to address the situation sooner or later."
_____________
“We need to recheck the terms and conditions of this marriage,” Kaoru said after a certain incident.
“What is it that you're dissatisfied with?” Y/n wondered. “I've been putting my skateboard away properly.”
“I noticed. But that’s not it. You've been intruding on my privacy.”
“...Intrude? I don’t even say anything when you act all giddy talking to Carla.”
Kaoru’s composure slipped. “I wasn’t even talking about that! But that is private! Don’t listen in—”
“Yea right,” she waved him off. “Not my fault your ‘private’ conversations are in public domain.”
“As I was saying,” he began with flustered annoyance, “you enter my room too freely.”
“You’ve been hogging my cat in there,” she shot back. “If I need him I have to go inside your room.”
“He just comes in who knows when. You should also tell that cat not to intrude on my privacy,” Kaoru deadpanned.
“Okay, but if he’s in your room next time, what am I supposed to do? Leave him there?”
“Knock like a normal person.”
“I do knock,” she shot back. “You just don’t respond when you’re there.”
“You come at the worst times,” he stated.
She narrowed her eyes. “Worst times? What, are you in the middle of reciting poetry with Carla?”
“That’s none of your business.”
Y/n gave him a pointed look. “Do you wonder if maybe… you’re being dramatic?”
“I’m setting boundaries.”
“Your boundaries have no wall, just vibes.”
He looked attacked. “That doesn’t give you clearance to barge in.”
“Fine. Next time, I’ll leave a formal request outside your door.”
……………….
They sit with the terms and conditions.
“I updated it,” he pointed. “See Clause 3.2.”
“No unauthorized entry into Kaoru’s private quarters. Applicable for pets and owners” She scoffed. “My cat doesn’t follow human laws.”
Kaoru pointed at the clause. “This is for you and also tell the damn cat he’s now legally obligated to knock.”
“Did you write this just to keep my cat out?”
“And you,” he added.
“How could you do this to your son?!” she feigned shock.
“That thing is your son. And I did not agree with shared custody when I signed the contract,” he said, side-eyeing the cat perched on the table.
“Wow. Okay. Fine. Then I’m adding an amendment.” She snatched a pen and wrote–
Clause 3.2.2 — In case of emotional emergency, room access override is permitted.
“Emotional emergency?”
“Like when I need my emergency emotional support loaf,” she said. “I’ll die without him!”
“Ugh fine…” he agreed reluctantly. “But I’m adding Clause 6.7 — No bothering Kaoru before 10 a.m.”
“That’s way too specific.”
“You are annoying in the mornings,” he said seriously. He’s at his wits end dealing with her morning personality. Honestly, he can’t help but wonder where she gets that energy so damn early in the morning…
……….........
.........
Kaoru barely stepped into the kitchen.
“Good morning, honey,” Y/n said sweetly from the kitchen counter. Too sweetly in fact.
“Don’t,” he said flatly without even looking at her. It’s as if he has seen this coming the moment he dragged himself out of bed.
Y/n only smirked and continued. “Want breakfast, darling?”
“Stop.”
“Maybe some coffee, sweetheart?”
Kaoru inhaled summoning divine patience. “It’s too early for this,” he muttered, pressing his temple. “Way too early.”
She leaned forward on the counter, chin perched on her hand, watching him. “Did you sleep well, baby?”
He closed his eyes. What’s worse was she knew that she was getting on his nerves . “I swear to—it’s six in the morning. Six.”
“We do need to keep the illusion up–”
“— to appear convincing to people. Unless there’s someone stalking us this early… go bother someone else.”
“I’m just expressing affection. Fake affection,” she emphasized mischievously.
“No– You’re expressing chaos.”
……...........
.......
Thinking about that is already making him displeased…
“Wait so it’s okay if I fluster you after 10?” She grinned wickedly. She’s already coming up with ideas to bother him.
“Do that and clause 3.2.2 becomes invalid,” he threatened.
She shut up. Emotional support loaf comes first.
They reviewed the whole clause. At the bottom of the page…
Clause 10: If either party catches feelings, they’re required to notify the other.
This one's longer than the length I usually write. Enjoy =D
27. Happy Birthday
Y/n sat on the floor with the unopened parcel from her parents resting before her.
She was just staring at it when Kaoru walked in, holding his tablet in one hand, stylus in the other. “Happy birthday,” he said casually.
Y/n looked up. “Did the presents give it away?”
Kaoru didn’t even glance at the box. “No, Reki was spamming the group chat. Do you want something special for today?”
Y/n was a little thrown off by the question. “No,” she said, waving a hand. “I’m fine. It’s just another day.”
Kaoru studied her. “Just another day,” he repeated under his breath.
She grinned, hugging the parcel close. “Besides, Reki’s chaos counts as entertainment, right?”
“That’s one word for it,” Kaoru murmured.
“So you don't have to bother,” she dismissed. “My parents will probably throw another party at the weekend like they always do and you’re invited by the way.”
“Party?” he repeated.
“Yeah,” she nodded. “With relatives and close associates, the usual crowd.”
“And… is that how you want to celebrate it?”
Y/n hesitated for a second. “That’s how we do it every year,” she said. “Although Rika and Aoi said they’d treat me to cake, so we’ll head out to eat.”
“I see,” he finally murmured.
Y/n looked up at him curiously. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said, turning away. “Enjoy your meal with your friends. Also what do you want for breakfast?”
Y/n stared at him like he’d grown a second head.
“What?” he said, noticing her perplexed expression.
“Are you planning on poisoning me? On my birthday?”
“What would I even get out of poisoning you?!” he said, his forehead twitching.
“Then do you have some kind of terminal illness so you decide to do nice things before you die–”
“I’m perfectly healthy I assure you– and no I'm not doing this because I’m trying to be domestic either,” he added as soon as he saw her open her mouth. “Carla said this would make you happy, so consider me making breakfast as your birthday gift.”
Y/n was speechless. “You asked Carla for ways to make my heart flutter,” she teased.
“I asked Carla what to get you for your birthday–” he corrected firmly. “But she had no idea and suggested this instead.”
“Ah, acts of service. That’s–”
“Finish that sentence and all you’ll get is burnt toast,” he threatened.
She shut up. Only because she wanted to get a taste of food he made and maybe add a few more ridiculous breakfast suggestions.
After the birthday treat with Rika and Aoi, which had been chaotic but fun and also involved getting teased about Kaoru that she tried (and failed) to deflect, Y/n went to Joe’s restaurant who promised her free meal.
“This is the best birthday gift ever,” she said, her eyes practically glowing as another plate of food arrived. “I can’t believe you’re actually letting me eat for free. Without complaining.”
Joe leaned back with a smug grin. “Of course I am. What kind of guy do you think I am? I’ve got to treat my favorite little sister figure on her birthday.”
“I’ll take that as long as the free food keeps coming.”
That's when Reki burst in. "I object!" Reki said, dragging Langa behind him.
"Huh?" Y/n looked up mid-bite confused.
Reki stood in front of Joe. "You cannot continue this date!" Reki pointed at Joe.
Y/n frowned at Joe giving him a ‘what did you do?’ look. Y/n speculated that Joe messaged the others and told them he was taking her out on a date. Typical Joe behavior.
Joe just shrugged looking entirely too pleased with himself as Reki dramatically pointed at him.
Reki slammed his hands on the table. “Y/n, don’t fall for his tricks! He’s just trying to steal you away from Kaoru!”
“Steal me—what am I, a limited-edition figurine?”
Joe laughed. “Oh, come on, Reki. I’m feeding her, not proposing. Her boyfriend will glare at me if I do that.”
“He’s not my—” Y/n started.
“Uh-huh,” Reki said, crossing his arms with a frown. “Then what will your fangirls say?”
Joe smirked. “They’ll understand,” he said with that usual confidence.
“What do girls even see in him?” Reki said.
Joe grinned. “There’s no need to be jealous, kid. It’s charisma.”
“Charisma my ass–”
Y/n muttered watching them bicker. “More like delusion.”
Joe put a hand over his heart dramatically. “You wound me, Y/n. Here I am giving you free dinner—”
“Which you called a date,” she interrupted.
“—and yet no gratitude.” He sighed with mock despair.
Langa slid in beside her, smiling as he handed her a small wrapped gift. “We brought you something.”
“That’s nice of you…”
But before she could say anything else, Langa pointed to her plate. “Also, can I have some?”
“Sure,” Y/n said, sliding the dish a little closer.
“You’re sharing your food??” Reiki said in disbelief.
“He gave me a gift,” Y/n said.
“Don’t feed the kid. He eats a lot,” Joe glared as Langa grabbed a bite.
“Come on, you made us rush here straight from school!” Reki argued, plopping down too. “We deserve food for our efforts!”
“Buy it if you want it,” Joe said, crossing his arms. “You two are gonna make me bankrupt.”
“You literally own the restaurant!”
“Yeah, and freeloaders like you are the reason the bills stack up,” Joe shot back.
Langa and Y/n enjoyed the food while the two bickered in the background.
That Weekend
Y/n was leaning against a corner tired from all that socialization in her parents home. Her eyes followed Kaoru as he was standing near the piano with her uncle, talking about art and business as if he’d known the man for years.
“Kaoru-san! You have such refined taste!” her aunt gushed.
“My word…” she muttered into her drink. ‘It’s almost terrifying of how well he’s playing along…’
Her cousin leaned over. “Your husband’s a hit, huh? Auntie said he’s the most cultured man she’s met this year.”
“Of course she did,” Y/n sighed, watching Kaoru flash his polite, professional smile; the one that made people swoon without realizing how practiced it was.
“Y/n!” her mother called, pulling her toward the circle Kaoru had effortlessly charmed. “Kaoru was just telling us about the art exhibition he’s working on! Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Y-yeah, wonderful,” Y/n said.
Kaoru glanced at her, then leaned closer when no one was looking. “You look like you’re having fun,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth curving up.
“Don’t test me,” she muttered back.
Her aunt clasped her hands together. “You two are adorable! Look at them so in sync!”
Y/n felt her face heat. “W-we just… understand each other, that’s all.”
“She’s right. We’re… rather good at reading each other.” Kaoru was definitely having fun.
All was going well until at dinnertime someone asked the question she dreaded since the moment she rang the doorbell.
“When are you planning on having children?”
Y/n smiled stiffly, her eye twitching slightly. She whipped her gaze toward Kaoru, silently screaming at him to say something, to direct this conversation away.
“What? You’ve been married for a while now. It’s a natural question.”
“With all due respect,” Kaoru began smoothly, “we’d like it to be just the two of us for a while.”
............
Y/n almost spurt out her drink. ‘He didn’t even blink.’ It was as if he had been rehearsing for this moment for a long time.
“A marriage should be built on time, trust, and experience together. So we believe it’s better for us to spend more time with each other,” he added.
“Practical. I like that answer,” one of her relatives nodded.
“A strong foundation is important, I suppose. That’s thoughtful,” the one who asked the question said.
Kaoru met her eyes. Then gave a smile that clearly said he was pleased with himself.
‘He’s acting like we’ve had this deep heart-to-heart about building a future together…’ she thought.
“Yeah. That’s… exactly what we talked about.”
The sound of rain drumming against rooftops could be heard at a distance.
“Looks like it’s not letting up anytime soon,” Y/n’s mother said, peering outside with concern. “You two should stay the night.”
“Okay,” Y/n agreed without thinking much of it.
“I’ll prepare your old room for the two of you then,” he mother said.
Y/n froze. “Wait—two of us? Mom? My room.”
“Yes. Don’t worry we left it just as it was,” her mother waved her off.
“You’re letting him–” Y/n cleared her throat and fixed her tone. “Kaoru will be sleeping in my room?”
“Yes.”
“Where will I sleep?” Y/n said even though she already knew the answer.
“With him of course. Aren’t you married?”
"Mom, why not give Kaoru the guest room? My bed’s small for the both of us," Y/n suggested.
"Your aunt is staying there. Besides, your bed is big enough for two people," her mom said.
"But Kaoru sleeps with-" she looked at Kaoru who was standing beside them listening to the conversation play out. She can not say he sleeps with a bunch of pillows unless she wants her cat sold."-he prefers his space. The bed at home is bigger."
“Your bed has enough space too,” her mother stated.
Y/n could feel the invisible smugness radiating off her mom. “Mom—”
Before she could protest further, Kaoru smoothly slid in. “That’s perfectly fine. I don’t mind at all.”
Y/n turned to stare at him in horror. “I don’t want you uncomfortable in a cramped space,” she forced out.
He met her glare with infuriating calm. “It’s just one night. I’m sure we’ll manage.”
Her mother clasped her hands together. “Wonderful! I’ll have the room prepared. You two must be tired. It's been a long day.”
Y/n forced a smile. “Oh, so tired. Exhausted, actually.”
As her mother walked off, Y/n turned sharply to Kaoru. “You accepted?!” she whisper-yelled.
Kaoru arched an eyebrow. “Would you rather I made it suspicious and refused to share a room with my own wife?”
“We literally have to share a bed,” she hissed.
They were standing in the center of her room. Soft cream walls, photos from her school days still pinned on the corkboard, stuffed animals stacked at a corner. Y/n felt him judge her existence.
Kaoru looked around, quietly taking it in. “It’s… cute.”
“Don’t,” she warned. “Just—don’t start. And go ask mom for a spare mattress,” Y/n told him.
“I’m not asking your mother for a spare mattress. You do it,” he said, walking over to the pictures.
“She won’t give it to me without a better reason… I know– I’ll say you kicked me off bed,” she slapped her hand on her table.
“Say that and I’ll seriously kick you,” he warned. “Tell her you kicked me off instead.”
“And have her scold my non-existential bad sleeping habits? No thank you,” she said, shoving spare pajamas his way.
“It’d be rude of me to ask your mother to go through this trouble after agreeing to share a bed in the first place,” he said.
“She won’t give in to my pleas and you think it’s rude… great,” she muttered, holding her pajamas. "Turn around.”
“You’re going to change in here?” He did a double take.
“We need to keep the illusion up. We could go change in the bathroom when everyone’s asleep but I’m too tired for that.” She waited for him to turn away. “Or are you planning on watching, perv?”
“I’m not–” Kaoru quickly added, turning away.
“Don't look unless I say so, okay?" Y/n said, turning away to change.
Kaoru hummed as he reached for the sash of his kimono, his back facing hers. ‘I should get this over with then..’
Y/n glanced over her shoulder, making sure Kaoru’s back was facing her. Kaoru slipped his kimono down his shoulders making her snap her head away as a faint blush crept in.
He may appear graceful and unaffected but his posture was rigid with awareness. He stepped out of his kimono, eyes fixed on the opposite wall. But he was aware of every rustle of fabric, the scrape of her foot against the floor.
Y/n pulled her pajama pants up, hyper conscious of the fact that Kaoru could technically see her if he turned around. She tried to focus on changing as fast as she could.
Kaoru, on the other hand, tugged the shirt over his head, aware of her movements out of the corner of his senses. His hands lingered over the shirt.
Kaoru adjusted the waistband of his pajama pants, keeping his front turned away. He couldn’t help but imagine her movements. He wanted to punch himself…
Y/n finally finished changing into her pajamas. “Okay… all done.”
Kaoru finally allowed himself to turn to stare directly at her.
They stood there silently, both acutely aware of the other’s presence.
"Let’s draw lots," Y/n finally said, breaking the silence. “Chosen one gets the bed.”
They did. This resulted in luck favouring Kaoru.
“This is rigged…” Y/n muttered.
Kaoru folded his arms, smug as ever. “Life is rigged, my dear. You’ll survive one night on the floor.”
She shot him a glare. “You call yourself my husband and yet—”
“—fake husband,” he corrected.
“Whatever! The point is, this is where you’re supposed to step in and say, ‘No, darling, take the bed, I insist.’”
“And deprive myself of the satisfaction of victory? Not a chance.”
“I’m sure you did something–” she accused.
“I didn’t even touch the paper.”
Y/n huffed, flopping on the floor with a blanket and pillow. "If I wake up with back pain, I'm blaming you."
Kaoru propped his head up with one hand on the bed. "Not my problem. You should've picked better."
Y/n groaned. "I knew it was rigged."
……………..
…………..
‘This is hella uncomfortable,’ Y/n thought as she lay on the floor. Kaoru was already fast asleep on the bed. She took out her phone. 'Since I can't sleep anyway I'll get some light reading done.’
That's what she said 2 hours and 99 chapters ago….
Y/n was trying her best to stifle a giggle as she rolled around. "No way, he really said that?!”She was lying on her stomach on the floor, the blanket haphazardly covering her, completely absorbed in the manga she was reading.
She bit her lip, burying her face into the pillow as another laugh threatened to escape. ‘This couple is too adorable,’ she thought, scrolling. ‘They’re making my single soul ache.’
Just then, a groggy voice came from the bed. “…Are you seriously laughing at this hour?”
Y/n froze mid-snicker. “No?”
“Then who’s making that noise, your ghost? What are you even doing?”
“Go back to sleep,” she shot back.
Kaoru sat up fully now, squinting down at her. “You’re the one who’s keeping me from sleeping… you’re reading at this hour?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” she said without looking up at him.
“Just get up here if you can’t sleep.” His sleep derived state was making his patience snap.
“I’m fine—just five more chapters,” Y/n said, waving him off.
“Read tomorrow.”
"Nuh-uh." Y/n said eyes focused on her phone. “This is comforting.”
He stared for a long moment, jaw twitching slightly, before he finally swung his legs over the bed and stood. “Unbelievable…”
Y/n looked up too late. Kaoru crouched down and picked her up.
“Wait—wait, what are you doing?!” she squeaked, clutching her phone to her chest as he effortlessly lifted her.
“Saving my sleep,” he said dryly as he unceremoniously dropped her onto the mattress.
Y/n bounced once. “Ow! You could’ve warned me!”
“I did,” he said, taking the phone from her and placing it on the nightstand. “You didn’t listen.”
“You’re ruining my moment.”
Kaoru settled onto the bed beside her making a barricade with her plushies between them. “You’re ruining my sleep. Stay on your side,” he warned. “And don’t steal my blanket.”
She tilted her head. “Or… what princess?”
“Or… I’ll seriously kick you down.”
“Should I test your resolve, then?”
Instead of retorting like she expected, Kaoru reached out and dragged the blanket up under her chin, tucking it neatly around her shoulders.
This sudden action threw her off.
“One wrong move and I'll seriously consider kicking you. Understood?” he stated, looking into her eyes.
“Understood,” she repeated, stunned.
With that Kaoru got back to his much required sleep.
For a while Y/n couldn’t sleep. The warmth of his body so close, made her question everything. ‘This was… not part of the plan,' she thought as sleep overtook her.
Kaoru stirred awake when he felt something warm press against his side in the dead of night. He cracked an eye open to find Y/n with her arm draped over his chest.
“…You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath. ‘How did she get past the wall of oversized stuffed toys in her sleep?’
He tried to push her off, careful not to wake her as he had no intentions of hearing her comment on the present situation. But every time he moved, she pressed tighter.
At first, he thought he could stay still and wait for her to roll away on her own as he drifted off to sleep. Except at one point Y/n flung her leg over his torso her entire body pressed against him now.
‘Just push her away without touching anywhere else…’ “Y/n…” he whispered, pushing her shoulder. “You’re… strangling me.”
No response. She just nuzzled closer.
“Maybe I should take the floor,” he finally muttered. But it proved impossible to even move. Every time he shifted Y/n clung tighter.
‘I feel bad for her cat if this is what that feline has to deal with,’ he thought as he started to give in to his fate. He stared at the ceiling willing himself to ignore the way her body squeezed against his. ‘She’s heavy. She’s clingy. She—’
His gaze drifted down.
Her face was completely unguarded in sleep, her features relaxed in a way that lightened his irritation. He couldn’t stop staring, tracing the slope of her cheek to her eyelashes. He could practically count them.
He sighed, lifting a hand to brush a stray lock of hair away from her face but stopped midway, curling his fingers into a fist before retreating. “…This is ridiculous.”
Her warmth and softness was oddly comforting as it made him wonder if he actually wanted to shove her back to her side of the bed or keep her here.
Sleep didn’t come easy that night, but Kaoru couldn’t bring himself to complain anymore.
_________
The following morning Y/n stirred awake earlier than usual.
‘Uggh I missed sleeping in my bed,’ she thought, stretching her body slightly, ignoring the warm figure behind her. ‘Sleeping alongside my husband–’
She stilled her half-awake thoughts…. ‘I have a fake husband!!’ her thoughts screamed as she fully shook the sleep off and registered the arm across the middle of her body.
Then she made the mistake of turning back to see a peacefully asleep Kaoru, his face inches from hers.
She quickly slipped out from under his arm, careful not to wake him up. She sat up and stared at his figure, her face red. He looked too good like that.
“…no one’s going to believe this,” she muttered in awe after composing herself.
And before logic could stop her, she grabbed her phone and clicked. The soft shutter sound echoed loud.
Kaoru’s voice came out low and thick with sleep. “...Did you just take a picture?”
Her eyes darted to the side as she shoved her phone behind her back. “No…” she said way too quickly.
His brow furrowed. “Y/n.”
“Hmm?”
“Delete it.”
“There’s nothing to delete,” she said, smiling innocently.
Kaoru sat up, the blanket sliding down to his waist, pink hair messy from sleep which only made him look even more unfairly good looking. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Delete it,” he stated firmly this time.
“No.”
His brow twitched. “Y/n.”
“Delete what?” she said, inching backward on the bed.
“The photo–”
“It was a photo of the scenery…” she said helplessly.
“Let me see then.”
“...no.”
And then he lunged.
“This is violation of privacy!” she yelped as he grabbed at her wrist, trying to snatch the phone. They wrestled clumsily, Kaoru muttering curses under his breath.
“You’re violating my privacy,” he said trying to pry her fingers open.
In a desperate move, Y/n slipped the phone under her shirt.
Kaoru froze....
They both did.......
Y/n realized his hand was hovering far too close, far too risky. Her heart thundered in her chest. “...You wouldn’t,” she smirked despite her racing heart.
He didn’t move for a moment as if contemplating his actions. Finally, he straightened, “Unbelievable. Also don’t sleep hugging me next time.”
Y/n scoffed. “Excuse you, I only hug soft, warm things like my cat. You’re cold and made of stone.”
Kaoru turned, giving her a flat look. “Stone?” He opened his mouth, to retort but stopped himself. ‘Of course she doesn’t remember.’ The second she mentioned warm, his mind flashed back to last night — the heat of her body pressed against his, her breath brushing his neck.
“Why are you blushing? Did you dream something scandalous?” Y/n said leaning toward him.
He looked away immediately, snatching his glasses from the bedside table. “You’re so annoying in the mornings.” He walked out the door.
Y/n did not dwell much on it as she followed after him.
